Prisoner of Love
by snowin' you
Summary: Destiel Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of the night. Amidst a mess of twisted fate, misunderstandings and wrong decisions, they find themselves confined to prisons within prisons of their own weaknesses. Warnings: M/M non-con situations, coarse languages, violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Prisoner of Love (1/?)

**Author:** snowin' you

**Summary:** Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of the night.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters. This story is entirely fictional and does not reflect any real situations nor assumes such incidents would happen in any Correctional Facilities.

**A/N:** Originally written for **verucasalt123**. Title was taken from a song by Utada Hikaru, which in turn is the theme song for this awesome Japanese drama called 'Last Friends'. Watch it if you can!

**A/N2:** This chapter is re-posted with beta by **alittlebitwicked**. Thank you for your help!

~:~:~

Castiel Milton was brought to the seventh cell down the hall. It was a 6x8 feet cage with nothing but one bunk bed and something someone would call a cat's toilet, to put it nicely. His cellmate was lying very still on the top bunk, not wincing at the sound of the buzzer alerting the guards and prisoners alike that a door was being opened.

The guard told Castiel to step in and stop at the yellow line. He did as he was told and as soon as the guard announced that the prisoner was secure, the buzzer went off again. Then the door clinked closed, its sound echoing through the hall. Castiel stood awkwardly in his orange scrubs, holding what little possessions the guard handed to him as his survival kit. His cellmate, whom he never got a name, was keeping perfectly still. He seemed not to notice him, or maybe he just didn't care, as if Castiel was nothing but dusts in the wind.

For a horrifying moment, Castiel thought the guy might be dead, so he inched closer. The guy had short, dirty blonde hair and a strong jaw. His complexion was darkened by suntan, the kind of tan you get when you spend long and hard hours sweating in scorching sun. The savagery of his looks was highlighted by his rough stubble. Castiel raised one hand up, intending to feel his pulse, when suddenly he noticed a slight movement in the man's chest. It was the slightest of slight movements, almost unnoticeable, but it was there.

Castiel gasped and quickly retracted his hand. He should have known better. If he wanted to survive his sentence, he needed to learn whom he should approach, or better still, whom he shouldn't.

He resolved to throw his things on the lower bed and flopped down on it. Castiel let out a sigh of relief once his back touched the not-so-comfy-but-better-than-nothing mattress. It was past dinnertime, and if his cellmate remained as he was, Castiel would have a 12-hour of peaceful rest before morning came and battles began.

Only if life were that simple.

~:~:~

Castiel was jostled awake by a sudden weight on his chest. He let out a cry but it was muffled by one calloused hand that covered his mouth entirely. He fought to get up but his arms were quickly shoved behind his back and he felt a knee stomped hard on his chest. He choked for breath and with this much pain he sincerely believed one of his ribs must have been broken.

Even though his eyes were wide with panic, in the dark he could only make out a silhouette, so he had no idea who his perpetrator was.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you," the man said next to his ear, loud enough for only Castiel to hear.

With free legs Castiel tried to wrestle out of the man's restraint. For one brief moment, he managed to shout for help at the top of his lungs before he was suffocated again by a wad of cloth. Everything after that went really fast and hard and before he knew it, his hands were bound to the headboard and his feet to the posts at the end of the bed.

The man moved back as if to enjoy his piece of art. From this angle, with a little help from outside light, he could make out the strong jaws and the stubble. It was his cellmate.

Castiel struggled with all his might to break out of bond. His cellmate was a psychopath! He needed to get out of here. Now!

"Now, now," the lunatic spoke. He had a way of keeping his voice low so that no one would hear. How many times had he done this? What happened to his previous cellmates? Terrifying possibilities that came up in his mind weren't helping in this situation. The guy leaned in closer and it was only so far that Castiel could back away. "Do you really think someone would come to your rescue at this hour? In this cell?"

There was something in his voice. No, there wasn't something in his voice. There was no intimidation.

"Castiel, right?" he asked, merely inches away from him.

Castiel nodded, still trying to back away from the man, even if it was to no avail.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean said next to his ear. His hands crept up on Castiel's bare skin under his scrub top. "After tonight, you will _never_ forget my name."

Castiel screamed but it went silent in his muffled throat. He was going to get raped, on his first night in prison, by his own cellmate.

The bed shook thunderously under his tussle. Dean's hands roamed all over Castiel's chest and he shoved his top up above his head. It hung loosely around his wrists where he was tied to the bed, his torso bare and open. Dean kissed the curves of his naked shoulders. His breath hot, his stubble jagged against his skin.

By now Castiel was sure Dean was right. If help were going to come, it would have come long ago.

At this realization, Castiel stopped fighting. He resigned himself to this unwanted proposition. Warm streaks of tears ran down his face, and for the first time he was glad his mouth was gagged. No one could hear his pitiful sobbing.

"Shh," Dean hushed him. "Don't cry," he said, kissing the tears away. Castiel should be _disgusted_, but the kiss was so gentle he could melt into it. Or maybe his crooked, perverted mind, reeling with shock of it all, had malfunctioned altogether. "I'm not going to hurt you," Dean continued. "I want you to enjoy this."

The hell he would enjoy being raped by another man.

Dean took his time planting small kisses all over his body. After some time, Castiel started to think it might not be that bad, if this was all Dean was going to do. That is, until Dean found his sensitive spots, and Castiel shuddered every time Dean brushed past them. Castiel could feel Dean smirked onto his skin when suddenly Dean attacked those spots with precise accuracy, as if Dean had them all mapped and charted, and this time Castiel wriggled not from fear, letting out muffled, shameless moans.

Unbelievably, Castiel was half-hard, and he hated Dean Winchester more than anything.

After Dean seemed satisfied with his upper body, he shoved Castiel's pants down to his ankle in one swift motion Castiel didn't even have time to gasp. Now he was fully exposed.

Dean grinned wickedly. Castiel couldn't see it, but he _knew_ Dean was grinning wickedly.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, Cas," Dean said, again with the volume of his voice attuned only for the two of them.

Wait a minute. Did he say, 'Cas'?

If he had the ability to speak, he would retort sharply, but he didn't. And when Dean dropped down by his bed, taking his cock in his mouth, Castiel could only fight so hard and scream so loudly.

"Shh, Cas," Dean hushed him once more, pinning his hips down on the mattress. "I'm not going to hurt you. You need to trust me on this."

Trust him? Trust the man who was going to rape him?

Dean's two arms were too strong for him, even when he struggled for his dear life. Castiel's hips were locked in place while Dean resumed sucking his cock. His limbs were writhing frantically, tightening the knot where he was bound to the point that it hurt. After some time, he again resigned himself to this violation and gave up his useless struggles.

So there he was, lying on his prison bed, hands and feet tied up while his cellmate was giving him a blowjob. When he was no longer struggling, the only sound he could make out in the dead of the night was the sound of Dean sucking, and it did something to his twisted, demented mind. Castiel never had a guy give him head before, but he would be lying if he said Dean wasn't any good. Hell, he was fabulous: the way his soft lips curved around the sensitive skin of his cock and not the slightest grate of teeth, the way his tongue added just right amount of pressure and moved just at the right angles, the way Dean can deep-throat him, letting his cock down the very tight heat of his passage. Castiel had no idea how Dean could do that without gagging, but it did feel _so_ good.

Castiel could hear someone panting and it took him a moment before he registered that it was actually him. He had no idea when Dean had removed the gag from his mouth, but now he was writhing and whimpering and he wished Dean would return the gag so he wouldn't have to bite his lips to suppress his moans until he bled. He tasted the foul copper in his mouth. He felt his balls tightened, his stomach churning and then his body went into a spasm while he shot pearly cum on his stomach with unsuppressed moans that echoed through the hall.

"Goodnight, Cas. You did great," Dean said pecking at his lips. A soft, warm touch that was not enough.

Castiel longingly inched forward, but Dean was long gone to his top bed, leaving him in his disgraceful posture.

The new convict cried himself silently to sleep. Now that the entire building heard him, he would have to become a prison whore. He wouldn't survive his sentence.

~:~:~


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Prisoner of Love (2/?)

**Author:** snowin' you

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Warnings:** M/M non-con situations

**Word Count:**2,285 / 3,851

**Summary:** Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of the night.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

**A/N:** Thank you everyone who has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Hope you enjoy this story as much as I do. I welcome all kinds of feedback. :)

**A/N2:** This chapter is re-posted with beta by **alittlebitwicked**. Thank you for your help!

~:~:~

Castiel was again jolted awake by blaring morning call. For a moment, he thought he was in the comfort of his own bed in his apartment when slowly the unfamiliar light and noises began to sink in. Flashes of last night's memories came rushing in and he got up, startled. To his relief, he was neither bound nor naked. There was no trace of sticky cum on his stomach as he feared there would be. If bruises on his wrists and ankles were not evident, he would have concluded that it had all been a very, very bad dream.

The bed shook and Castiel pressed himself back to the wall as far as he possibly could. His cellmate – yes, he was right, Castiel couldn't forget his name – Dean Winchester, jumped down from the top bed with a step as light as a feline. He walked out, passed the open bars, didn't even spare a look at Castiel from the corner of his eyes.

Castiel decided to remain in his cell. He could survive without food for a day or two, or weeks if that had to be. He wouldn't survive sexual assaults from dozens of inmates.

Half an hour later he was yanked out of his cell by a prison guard. Apparently, no one was allowed to the comfort of his own bed during 'public' period.

He tried to tell the guard that he was harassed last night, but the guard seemed to pretend to be deaf. Castiel's heart beat loudly in his ears as he was dragged nearer and nearer to what seemed to be a common canteen. He could hear clangs and bangs of kitchenware and low hums of men talking and buzzing. He could see men – big, scary men – in orange scrubs walking here and there through small windows of the canteen doors. Castiel was certain he was walking to his death chamber.

The doors were pushed open and Castiel froze where the prison guard had left him. One pair of eyes landed on him, and then two, three and soon every pairs of eyes were locked on him as the canteen went dead silent. The erratic beating of his own heart echoed through the hall.

There he was, at the far corner of the canteen, Castiel's archenemy sat high on the table. Dean Winchester gazed at him from afar. Even from this distance, he could clearly see the enigmatic green of his orbs. Dean had a body of a warrior, and a determination on his face of a fighter.

"Are you going to stand there forever?"

Castiel jumped at the voice. Someone small, with a bushy, dark hair just walked past him. He stopped only a few feet away, turning back to him with bulky blue eyes.

"Are you eating or what?" He snapped, then turning to walk away again.

Castiel instantly followed. He had no idea who the guy was, but it definitely beat being stared at by 200 pairs of eyes.

Once Castiel moved, the room began to return to its previous state. Inmates resumed their walking or talking or whatever it was they were doing earlier. Noises again filled the room.

The new convict imitated everything the bushy inmate did, getting the tray, getting the food and walking to sit at a table. The three inmates who previously sat there quickly grabbed their trays and moved to another table once the two of them sat down. The bushy inmate didn't seem to care.

Castiel could still feel Dean's gaze on him. He wanted to move to another table where something could block the gaze away, but as he scanned the room, he realized that wasn't possible. Apparently, the corner Dean was occupying had a full view of the entire canteen. No one could escape him.

The bushy inmate swiftly swallowed his food. Castiel picked at his bread and soup, still feeling a little woozy at the new experiences.

"If you wanted to survive this prison, you'd better start fighting for yourself," the bushy inmate said with a mouth full of food.

Castiel snorted looking at Dean's direction. Emerald eyes stared back at him. Wasn't fighting what he had been doing all night?

"It's not Dean you need to fight with," he continued.

Castiel suppressed the urge to yell and scream and knock down the whole table. If it wasn't for Dean-

"I'm Chuck, by the way."

Castiel flinched. Alright, this was not the time to fume over his rage. He needed to make friends first. It might be his only chance.

"Castiel."

"Yes, I heard you."

Castiel felt his cheeks burn. 'Heard'? As in-

"I'm serious," Chuck said, getting up, "start eating," he passed his leftover meat balls onto Castiel's plate, "and build some muscles. I don't wanna see another dead body in here."

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Chuck had already walked away. He was left there, alone, with questions unanswered. What dead body? Chuck was like the skinniest guy here, how could he tell him to 'build some muscles'? His eyes unintentionally landed at Dean again, and suddenly he realized Chuck was right. If he wanted to survive, he needed to start fighting for himself.

Castiel swallowed down his food. With Chuck gone, he had nobody else to look at but Dean. He avoided looking at other inmates as it would be much wiser to have one enemy at a time. Dean seemed amused watching him eat. Then Castiel bit into something hard inside one of the meat balls.

He quickly turned his back on Dean and slowly spat out the food. There was a paper clip in there, possibly intended for one of the other inmates, but he didn't care. It was a sharp object, and sharp object was a gem in this place.

~:~:~

The rest of the day went by painfully. Chuck didn't join him for lunch or dinner, nor did any other inmates. Castiel observed, much to his surprise, that everyone kept their distance from him, six feet at least. (He discreetly measured.) He had no idea what to make of it, but he could live by himself for the rest of his sentence if he had to. Dean only kept his eyes on him in the common area. In the privacy of their cell, he was nothing more to Dean than a speck of dust, which Castiel was glad. He could quietly contemplate how to defend himself with tiny paper clip if Dean decided to attack him again. He also practiced push-ups on his mattress, which shook the whole bunk bed, but he didn't care. It beat doing it on the floor and exposed himself (and his ass) to Dean anyway.

Then came the time Castiel was dreading the most: shower time. He rushed to find Chuck. He had to find Chuck. Once Castiel had found him, he stayed close to him. He didn't care if Chuck thought he was a pervert. Castiel quickly stripped, put a towel around his waist and followed Chuck to the shower area, when a big, black guy stood with arms crossed, blocking his way. Chuck didn't stop walking and soon he disappeared from Castiel's sight.

The big guy looked down at him with a creepy smile that showed his bright, white teeth. Castiel tried to keep his composure calm. He could not let anyone see his fears, not in here. He straightened his shoulders and kept his chin up.

"Leave him be, Uriel." A voice came up from behind, but Castiel didn't look to see who it was. Uriel started to laugh dryly, taking a few steps away from him.

"I'll play with you later, kitten."

Castiel ran to the shower. He hoped nobody, especially Uriel, saw how he shuddered at the ugly remark directed at him. He ducked his head under the cool spray of water and kept it there, because his eyes were spilling warm streaks of tears. He was shaking, but hopefully everyone would think it was because of the cold shower.

~:~:~

When the time came for lights out, Castiel was ready for whatever attack Dean may have at him tonight. He sat up, back to the headboard (or head bars, to be exact), a blanket covering half of his body. His tiny paper clip was ready. All he had to do was poke it into one socket of Dean's eyes. Castiel was sure he had the guts to do that.

Castiel wasn't sure how long he sat up there in the dark; it could have been hours or minutes. He could hear a little bit of noise here and there, someone flipping too harshly, someone snoring loudly, but the top bunk was as still and quiet as a coffin. The weather tonight was somewhat cooling, and his arms were dead tired because of all the push-ups he had done during the day, and his eyelids started drooping—

"Wake up."

Castiel was jolted awake by Dean's voice next to his ear. He tried to move, but his hands were tied behind his back to the head bars. Sitting close to it had not been a good idea after all.

His eyes searched about the tiny area, _where was the paper clip?_

"Looking for this?" Dean smiled widely in front of him, holding the teeny paper clip in one hand.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut at his foolishness. He should have kept it under his tongue.

"It looks helpful. I'll keep it for you," said Dean, tossing the helpless clip on the floor.

Dean straddled Castiel's lap, fingers toying with his top. He didn't gag him, or bind his feet.

"I see you made some friends today," Dean said, his hands rubbing the plain of Castiel's chest under his shirt. Castiel tried to recoil from the touch, but he couldn't move any further with Dean sitting on him.

"What's his name?" Dean asked, pushing his top over his head, and it stuck behind his neck. Once again Castiel was naked from the waist up, in front of Dean.

"Chuck," Castiel replied with a choke of breath he didn't know he was holding.

Dean nodded at his reply.

"Tell me," Dean said over his skin. He didn't waste any time, but went straight to places where Castiel was most sensitive, which sent him reeling under Dean's tight grip. "Who do you like more? Me or Chuck?"

Castiel whimpered, swelled tears threatened to pour down his cheeks. It was terrifying how Dean knew so much about him, how he didn't miss a single one of Castiel's sensitive spots.

"Chu-"

"Think of your answer, Cas," Dean retorted, as he bit at his collarbone, breaking skin. Castiel could no longer hold his tears.

"You, I like you more."

Dean hummed contentedly, licking at the bruise.

"Dean," Castiel sobbed, his voice broken, "please."

Dean stopped, looking back at Castiel's face. Then he shifted. A slight change of his position, and Castiel could feel Dean's rock hard erection against his penis.

"You feel that, Cas?" Dean asked, rocking his hips slightly, but the friction it created was maddening. "That's what you do to me when you beg, you filthy little whore."

Castiel swallowed down his moans. "I'm not a whore," he whimpered.

That put a smile on Dean's face. He stopped rocking and gave Castiel a peck on his lips. "No, you're not," Dean said shoving Castiel's pants down. Castiel gasped when his own erection sprang free. "You're my _bitch_."

Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel's cock. His thumb rubbed at the precum spilling from his angry head. Castiel shivered at the touch.

"Please, Dean, you're hurting me."

Dean stopped what he was doing.

"My arms, will you untie me, please?" Castiel asked softly.

For a moment, Dean seemed to consider and Castiel thought he might get away with it tonight, but then Dean lifted himself up and then lifted Castiel up with both arms, straightened his back and put a pillow behind for him to rest on.

"Better?" Dean asked.

Castiel's hope was shattered. There was no way he was getting out of this.

As soon as Castiel nodded, Dean resumed his task. He lined up their erections and started pumping them both, with the thin fabric of Dean's pants in between. Castiel had no idea why Dean didn't take his clothes off, but he was glad he didn't.

If Dean was any good with his mouth, his fingers were magical. It seemed as if Dean could read from his pants and ragged breath and it was even better than when Castiel fondled himself. Soon the tension was building up and Castiel knew he has lost his battle again.

"Dean, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me, baby." Dean quickened his pace and Castiel shot angrily all over his stomach. He knew Dean came, too, at the same time. Their indecent groans would put every porn star to shame.

Somehow Castiel felt sorry for his fellow inmates, having to hear such obscene sounds meant for the confines of a private room.

Dean flopped down, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder, panting hard. "That was awesome, Cas."

Great, now his perpetrator thought molesting him was _awesome_.

After a while, Dean got up. He grabbed a towel from his bed, wet it and came to clean Castiel up. He didn't wait until after Castiel had gone asleep.

"Dean," Castiel asked, looking at Dean in the dark, "why are you doing this to me?"

Dean pulled Castiel's pants up and his top down. He untied his arms and settled Castiel back on his pillow, covering him with his blanket. He gave Castiel a quick peck on his lips.

"Goodnight, Cas."

Castiel watched as Dean climbed swiftly back up his bed, his question left unanswered.

~:~:~


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Count: **2,255 / 6,097

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

**A/N:** Thank you for the overwhelming responses and I'm so sorry for the slow update. To make up for it, this chapter has been beta'd. Hooray! Big thanks to **phaelsafe** for her help. Also, a special thanks to **divemyself** for her 'educational' support. Please kindly note the increased warnings and don't forget I welcome all kinds of feedback!

**A/N2:** This holiday season I want to send all my lovelies (by 'my lovelies' I mean you!) a Christmas card. See my tumblr or LJ for details. Or short version: PM me your mailing address!

~:~:~

Castiel was lost in thought when Chuck threw his food tray down in front of him, making Cas jump. "I see you stopped eating," Chuck commented, flopping down on the opposite chair.

Castiel apathetically picked at his food. He had lost his appetite and couldn't take a single bite. Hell, he even lost his will to live. "I want to stop breathing," he mumbled meekly.

"Touché. Touché," Chuck grunted, gobbling up his food as though it would disappear before his eyes.

Cas' mind drifted back to the events of last night. He had never _felt_ another guy's dick before. He had always been so sure he was a straight man, but the friction was... _maddening_ was an understatement. The memory of Dean groaning still made him shiver–

No, he was so not gay.

"I want to die," Castiel continued with a sigh. It was embarrassing, being harassed by another guy; and, worse still, that he couldn't keep his mind off it.

"Yea, prison suicide, try that," Chuck said around a mouthful of bread, spitting crumbs as he snorted. "Make sure you succeed, or you'll wish you were dead."

Castiel sighed again, long and heavy, watching with morbid curiosity as Chuck shoveled the tasteless prison food down his throat with the enthusiasm of a pig. He frowned. "How do you even survive in this place?"

"I see things," Chuck replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Of course the reply made Castiel's frown deepen. "What do you mean you see things?"

"I see things means I see things. Am I speaking Chinese?"

Ignoring Chuck's irritation, Castiel continued, "Like a psychic?"

"Meh," Chuck responded with another shrug. "So, unless you have some kind of supernatural power, I suggest you grow a pair and start fighting back."

Castiel cringed. He was never one for violence. "But I don't know how to fight," Cas said sheepishly.

Chuck just nodded. "See that guy sucking a lollipop over there?" he said after he had finished chewing, pointing to a small guy with slicked-back hair and a wide forehead. "His name's Gabriel. He's one of the top fighters here. He'll teach you."

Castiel watched as Gabriel joked and laughed with two taller guys, deepening the friendly creases on his face. He didn't seem much of a fighter, but what Castiel found more questionable was "Why would he do that?"

Besides Chuck, nobody had really bothered to come near Castiel, let alone talk to him.

"Because he will," Chuck replied flatly as he got up, collecting his empty tray before walking away.

~:~:~

When afternoon rec time came around, Castiel mustered up his courage and walked straight over to where Gabriel and the two guys from earlier were busy grappling shirtless. He glanced over at Dean's usual spot across the field. A small crowd of people was cheering Dean on as he hoisted himself up a salmon ladder.

"So this is the face that launches a thousand ships." Gabriel stopped what he was doing and approached Castiel with a sneer.

"Gabriel," Castiel greeted with a tentative nod, trying not to look taken aback.

"What can I do for you, Queen of Sparta?" Gabriel smirked as his entourage snickered, rising to stand like brick walls on either side of the shorter man.

Castiel squinted up at them; then narrowed his eyes back at Gabriel. He stepped in closer, lifting his chin with determination. "You call me Queen again and I'll rip your ovaries out with my bare hands."

Tall and Taller threw their heads back, howling with laughter. Gabriel just chuckled in Castiel's face. "And here I thought you only had a big mouth when Dean was fucking it."

Castiel felt his blood boil. His hand clenched, and he hauled his fist back, ready to throw the first punch, when arms suddenly grasped him from behind. One of Gabriel's men had him trapped in a bear hug. His arms were locked tightly against his chest by the much stronger arms around him, and he tried to wrench free from the hold to no avail.

Gabriel clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Moan like a pussy, buck like a filly."

Growling, Castiel hauled his legs up and tried to kick out at Gabriel, who easily stepped out of the way.

"Be still!" Gabriel roared, his voice full of authority and power that could quiet even the restless howling of wolves.

Castiel halted, his nose flaring with rage. Sweat beaded upon his brow from the exertion, and the arms still holding him raised the heat, adding to Castiel's frustration.

"When you are grabbed," Gabriel continued, his tone abruptly solemn. "Don't panic. Remain calm and think. Don't think about where you've been locked. Think of where you're free." Castiel blinked, suddenly realizing that Gabriel was, in fact, giving him a lesson. "Your legs are free; your hands are free; your head is free. Use them."

Castiel remained stumped.

"Now watch." As soon as Gabriel spoke, his other lackey grabbed him in the same hold that Castiel was currently restrained by. Gabriel smashed his foot against the man's knee, and the other man lost his grip. Then, Gabriel whacked his head backward, swinging out of the hold and around to kick the guy in the stomach.

Castiel wasn't sure he followed that.

"Your turn."

~:~:~

For the rest of the day, Castiel was elated. Gabriel turned out to be quite a good teacher and Castiel had practiced a few self-defense tricks, as many as the short rec time allowed. When nighttime fell, Castiel's whole body ached, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't fall prey to Dean Winchester again tonight.

He avoided his bed and settled on the floor on the other side of the room. Castiel braced his back against the wall, determined not to fall asleep.

Dean Winchester stood before him not long after anyway.

"Didn't know you prefer getting off on the floor," Dean leered.

Cas stood up in defiance, glaring at Dean through the dim light.

Dean's lips spread into a sly smile. "I see you've taken some lessons today."

Castiel took another step closer when a stupid realization hit him. Gabriel had only taught him how to fend off an attack from behind. He had no idea what to do if his attacker was coming at him from the front.

"I won't let you take advantage of me again, Dean." Castiel lowered his voice, displaying a confidence he didn't really have.

In response, Dean simply smirked.

Easily catching the punch Cas throws at him, Dean twists Castiel's arm around then shoves him harshly into the cell bars with a loud clang, clutching at the other man's wrists from behind.

Instantly Castiel applied what he had learned earlier. He tried to stomp on Dean's foot, but Dean drew back in a flash. He used his head, but Dean also gracefully dodged away. When Castiel turned, he was pinned back against the bars with such force and precision that any chance of gaining his freedom was lost as Dean pressed in close, body to body.

"Now that's my boy," Dean purred into Castiel's ear, tying his wrists behind the bars with some cloth. "You'd probably survive the streets of, I don't know, Colorado?"

Castiel growled, writhing wildly against the binding only to find he was held fast. Dean took a few steps back slowly, carefully holding up his hands as if to imply he meant no harm.

"As a reward," Dean said with a wicked smile. He grabbed the hem of his scrub top and pulled it over his head, tossing the orange piece of cloth to the floor, revealing his finely toned muscles that glowed in the dim bluish light. Prison bars cast blasphemous shadows across his chest and the diabolic, sun-like tattoo that was branded on it.

"Like what you see, don't you?" said Dean with a seductive smile.

Castiel broke from his trance. He licked his lips, his blue eyes boring into enticing greens. "Dean," he called, his voice low and quivering, "I want to kiss you."

Never breaking eye contact, Dean edged slowly closer until he was once again pressed to Castiel, their noses grazing as they shared the same hot air. Cas' breath hitched as Dean rested his hands on his hipbones, swaying his hips ever so slightly. Dean brushed his lips over Cas', a light touch that roused the deepest longings of the heart. Castiel darted his tongue out, licking across Dean's lips, asking for access he had not yet been granted.

"And risk having my tongue bitten off? I don't think so," said Dean, pulling away.

Castiel dropped his head dejectedly. There went another attempt to get back at Dean.

"You see," Dean continued in his hawkish demeanor, "I still need it when I suck you off." Castiel yelped as Dean suddenly grabbed his dick. He shuddered when Dean palmed him, kneading him through the thin fabric of his pants. "I still need it when I drag my tongue, hot and wet, along the underside of your cock." As a demonstration, Dean dragged his finger from root to tip. It took all of Cas' effort not to whimper at the touch.

Dean slipped his hand under the waistband, fingers curling around Cas' hard-on as he purred, "When I close my lips around you, Cas," he said sliding his thumb over Castiel's flared head, smearing creamy pre-cum, "I need my tongue to support your big, fat cock as it hits the back of my throat."

Castiel closed his eyes, swallowing his groan.

"Look at me," Dean ordered and Castiel's eyes fluttered back open. Dean's lips were a mere breath away.

"Don't you wanna fuck my mouth, Cas?" Dean purred over Cas' lips. "My fuckable lips will stretch around you, make you throb painfully; and I will suck you so hard you'll be begging me to make you come."

Castiel was now trembling in Dean's hands, under Dean's voice. "And if you're a good boy," Dean went on, "I'll let you come on my chest." Castiel growled at the image that crept treacherously into his mind. "What do you say, huh, Cas? Do you want to paint my pretty chest with your cum?"

Cas was pitifully shaking within his bonds. "No," he answered, his voice cracking. "Dean, please stop."

"No?" Dean pulled back with a small frown. "I'm hurt."

With that Dean promptly dropped to his knees, shoving Castiel's pants down to his ankles and swallowing his cock straight down. Castiel screamed at the sudden heat around him, the sound of hard sucking echoing through the cell. Castiel stiffened, controlling his hips as best as he possibly could despite the overwhelming insanity.

Frustrated, Dean groaned in his throat and pulled off. "Let it go, Cas," he said sternly, looking up at Castiel. "Fuck me."

Cas threw his head back and suppressed his groans as Dean resumed his task. One of Dean's hands reached up to rub at Castiel's nipple, the other cupping his ass, squeezing it, before crushing his hips onto Dean's face. Once his cock slid down Dean's throat, Cas snapped, his hips thrusting violently of their own accord. He wished his hands weren't bound. He'd love to grab at Dean's hair as he fucked his mouth like a filthy cock slut that he was.

Soon enough, Castiel found he didn't need the use of his hands as Dean met all of his thrusts with ease. He slammed into the back of Dean's throat, over and over again; his mind spinning as he brokenly repeated Dean's name. Each time, Dean returned with throaty moans that vibrated across Castiel's throbbing nerves. Dean popped off and replaced his mouth with his hand at the final thrust. Castiel roared as he spurted fiercely, Dean's skillful fingers milking him through his orgasm.

"See how hot you are, Cas?"

Exhausted, Cas opened his eyes to find Dean sitting back on his heels, his knees spread wide. Thick stripes of white streaked across Dean's tanned chest. His toned muscles glistened with sweat, and his face was flushed, his lips swollen and red.

Dean Winchester was divinely beautiful.

After Dean let Castiel indulge in the sight, he got up and grabbed a towel from Cas' bed. He wet it down in the little sink and cleaned himself up before tossing it over Castiel's head. He said his goodnight and Castiel was left standing there, tied to the bars as Dean climbed back up onto his bunk.

Castiel slowly cooled down from his high. The towel hung loosely around his head, blocking his view. It smelled faintly of his own semen and Dean's sweat, and Castiel felt nauseated. He wanted to throw up at himself, at how sick he had become, how he had brutalized Dean, used Dean for his own pleasure like a wild animal.

He swore he would not let it happen again. He would not let Dean Winchester take control over him ever again.

~:~:~

Castiel felt his hands untied and he was braced against a shoulder. He continued to feign sleep as Dean carried him gently back to bed. As he lay there, a weight dropped beside him; then a hand softly caressed his hair. He felt Dean's lips pressed to his, lingering there until a drop of water landed upon his cheek.

With a mumbled, "I'm sorry," Dean hurried back to his own bunk.

Castiel opened his eyes in the dark, wiping the teardrop away with his finger. It was all too fucked up for him to even try to grasp what was going on.

~:~:~

_- TBC_

**A/N:** Yes, the famous salmon ladder Oliver Queen climbed up in CW Arrow's pilot episode. My Dean could do that. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Here I present this chapter to you with a troubling heart. If my writing is good enough, then you will at least have the slightest idea where this is going. If not, then I'd probably get thrown cyber tomatoes, which will evolve to rotten ones in the next chapter. (I love tomatoes, btw. As long as you don't throw me broccoli or bell peppers, I won't hate you.)

**Warnings for this chapter:** Brief graphic depiction of a bloody scene and mentions of suicide.

Please give a big round of applause to **phaelsafe** who patiently beta read this chapter.

In other note, the first two chapters were re-posted with beta by **alittlebitwicked**. Bravo! This story is now posted in AO3 as well. Another bravo! Now you may proceed…

~:~:~

"This has to stop!" Castiel threw his food tray on the table, causing a loud bang. It was a miracle he didn't spill all his food. Chuck and the other two inmates who were engaged in an easy conversation jumped simultaneously. The two inmates quickly grabbed their trays and moved to other tables, leaving Chuck huffy with annoyance.

"The hell, dude? I was talking!" Chuck wailed.

"It's not my fault everyone is disgusted with me," Castiel hissed. Why shouldn't they be? Even he was disgusted with himself.

"Oh, please, don't be a bitch," Chuck said with a roll of his eyes. "Everyone knows you're Dean's girl, and nobody messed with Dean's stuff. That's all."

"I'm not anyone's stuff!" Castiel snapped, getting up and hitting the table so hard everyone turned to stare in his direction. As soon as the whole canteen went dead silent, Cas realized what he had done and looked around discreetly. Some of the inmates' jaws actually dropped, and he heard a few others snickering from afar.

He slowly sat back down and was relieved to see everyone turn back to whatever they were doing earlier.

"Half of the people here respect Dean," Chuck hissed over the table. "And the rest fear him. So should you."

Castiel rubbed both hands over his face hard. He raised his shoulders and waved a hand at the inmate in front of him. "What about you?" he asked.

"I am not afraid of Dean," Chuck replied grimly.

"Why? Because you see things?"

Chuck shook his head slowly and let out a small sigh. "You should see his soul, Castiel."

Cas snorted. He thought Chuck wasn't afraid of Dean because he overpowered him, not because of some stupid implication that Dean had a beautiful soul or whatever!

"If you really see his soul, Chuck," Cas sneered. He hated Dean. He never hated anyone as much as he did Dean at this moment. "You should be afraid of him for being the monster that he is."

Chuck shook his head again, this time wearily. "Let me ask you something." He lowered his voice as if he didn't want anyone to overhear them. "Did Dean ever hurt you?"

In reply, Castiel simply presented the bruises on his wrists, his eyes fierce with anger.

Chuck made a dramatic roll of his eyes. He moved his face across the table and beckoned Castiel closer. Cas complied skeptically and Chuck asked, his voice barely a whisper, "Did he ever penetrate you?"

Castiel felt the blood drain from his face. He was sure at that moment he was paler than a blank piece of paper. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. When he spoke again, his voice was so rough it reminded him of sandpaper. "How much did you see?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as he could.

Chuck gave a satisfied nod and backed away. "I see enough," he said.

Castiel gulped hard. Perhaps Chuck had good reasons why he survived this place.

~:~:~

"Gabriel!" Castiel called as the other guy was returning his tray to the scullery. He pulled the guy around the corner, away from the majority of people.

"How do I request a cell change?" Castiel asked. Since Chuck wasn't helping, he turned to the only other person he knew in this place.

"Why would you want a cell change?" Gabriel asked casually, removing the lollipop from his mouth as he did so. "I believe you're in good hands, judging from what I heard last night." He snickered and popped the candy back into his mouth.

Castiel rolled back his head and groaned. "I can't let this go on anymore! I need to move out."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes up at him. He popped out the candy and whirled it around in the air. "Look around you, Cassie. How far do you think you can run in here?"

"As far as I could," Cas straightened his shoulders as he replied. Gabriel had a point, but still he had to do something about it.

Gabriel just stared back at him, the candy stick rolling around between his lips. After a brief moment, he took it out, stepping closer, and asked into Castiel's face, "How can you be sure your new cellmate won't do the same thing to you – or worse – now that they've all heard how you moan?"

Castiel felt like fire was creeping up his face, out of embarrassment or anger he could not tell. "You should see what he's turned me into!" he hissed, raising a finger in the shorter man's face in disdain. True, he could be raped, worse ways than he had been with Dean, but Castiel was pretty sure none of them could make him feel so low; none of them could make him feel like both prey and predator at the same time.

If Gabriel saw the rage or loathing in Castiel, he didn't wince. Instead, he said calmly, "What I can offer you, Castiel, is more intensive lessons. I will give steps you can practice on your own in your cell. If you can fight Dean, you can fight anyone."

"I can't fight Dean!" Cas lashed. "No one can fight him."

"It's true no one here can fight him," Gabriel replied with a nod, "but that doesn't mean you can't. You have potential."

Castiel groaned in frustration, throwing a punch at the wall next to them, leaving more bruises across his knuckles.

Just then the alarm blared, signaling them back to their stations or cells. Gabriel moved away with two pats to Castiel's back.

"I'll see you later, bro."

~:~:~

Castiel spent the entire morning seething and practicing what he had learned from Gabriel the other day while Dean was out on his job. His 'kung-fu' master may be right. If he could fight Dean, he could fight anyone, but he was not convinced that he had potential, seeing how his movements looked more like waddling than footwork. Even after lunchtime, when he was called in to see the correctional officer, he was still fuming, the smoke so thick he didn't see it coming when someone yanked him into what felt like a janitor closet. He was shoved against lockers; an arm locked tight over his throat, threatening to block his airway. It was completely dark, and Castiel could feel the hand that covered his mouth and hot breath over his face. He knew it wasn't Dean and fear gripped his heart.

"Listen to me carefully," the guy spoke and his voice was so cold it sent a chill down Cas' spine. "I'm here to help. I'm not going to hurt you."

If he wasn't so panicked, Castiel thought he might actually roll his eyes. Why did everyone start the conversation with these words when they were_ clearly_ hurting him?

"I know you want to request a transfer and I can help you with that," the guy continued. "If you promise not to scream, I will turn on the light and we can talk. Nod if you understand."

Castiel weighed his options. He could not-nod and risk being left here knocked out, if not dead. Or he could nod and when the light was on, he could assess the place and find a way to escape. Or he could just nod and listen to what the guy had to offer. Either way, nodding was the most sensible option, so he nodded.

"Good," the other man said, then the arm that locked around his throat slowly eased off and Castiel gasped for air. A click sounded from the darkness and light swarmed through the room.

Castiel was quite surprised that the guy didn't look as scary as his voice implied. He had short blond hair and sad blue eyes. If not for the few scars on his face, Castiel would think he was just a white-picket fence husband gone wrong.

The guy carefully removed his hand and Castiel studied the room. It was definitely a janitor's closet, but why would there be such a room in a prison Castiel couldn't understand. He could think of fifty crimes that could happen in here, and he shuddered at the thought. The door, however, was only to his left. If he dashed out really fast, maybe he could—

"Sorry I had to drag you in here," the man said sheepishly. His tone was genuinely apologetic Castiel reconsidered running away. "You have Dean's eyes on you all the time and this is the only safe place we can talk. People think this room is permanently locked."

Okay, so the guy seemed to know what he was talking about. However, the last sentence didn't sound very comforting. If no one knew he was here, it could be days, or forever, before someone found his body.

"The transfer," Castiel urged the talk on with a clear of his throat.

"Yes, the transfer," the guy returned with a small smile on his face. "You can file a request at the warden's office, but the thing is," he paused, pointing one finger into the air, "you won't be transferred unless there's a vacancy, which currently, there isn't."

Castiel's heart sank. So he had to be stuck with Dean for God knows how long. Maybe he could file a request and wait until someone moved out? But considering this place was more of a permanent residence than a motel, he may not outlive that time.

"But," the guy continued. Did he just sing-song? "I can file another request and with two requests a transfer should be possible."

Castiel squinted his eyes. That sounded too good to be true. He didn't believe anyone here would do anything out of a goodness of his own heart. "Why would you do that?" he asked.

"Someone needs to stand up to Dean," he said, his face suddenly solemn. "You see how everyone appeases him and ignores what he did to you? I may have done wrong in the past, Castiel; doesn't mean I have to tolerate it now."

Yes! Finally someone sympathized with him and had the guts to go against Dean. Out of this context, Castiel would befriend him right about now.

Raising his chin, Castiel remained collected and asked, "Who's your bunk mate?"

"Uriel. I believe you have met him."

Castiel shuddered at the name. How could he forget? And now he had to move from Dean to Uriel? Uh-uh. He was glad he was smart enough to ask.

"Wait, in the shower the other day," Castiel asked. He remembered someone stopped Uriel from advancing upon him, though he couldn't quite remember the voice. "Was that you?"

The guy nodded slightly.

"I don't think I would want to share the bed with Uriel, though," Castiel said plainly. The guy must be mad if he thought he would choose Uriel over Dean.

"And I want to share it with Dean? Please!" He wailed with a puff. "I know the person who'd arrange the transfer; they can put us together. Now just think how fun it would be if Dean and Uriel were in the same cell," he said with that mischievous look on his face. "He won't see it coming if we kept it secret."

Castiel had to agree the idea was very intriguing, but could he really trust a guy who had just kidnapped him into a room that had no way in?

"I didn't get your name," Castiel said pointedly.

"Call me Nick."

"Alright, Nick." Because Castiel couldn't think of any indirect way to ask, so he asked bluntly, "Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't trust anyone here," Nick replied with a smirk. "But to prove that I am on your side, I can teach you how to pick this lock that nobody else can," Nick said. "It's designed to keep prisoners out. Really, it's just overly complex, and I've had a lot of experience with picking ridiculous locks." His expression faltered slightly, and he muttered almost too softly to be heard, "amongst other things."

A few 'felony' tricks would be nice while he served his time here. Considering the offer, Cas remained silent for a few more moments, waiting to see if Nick had anything else to offer.

And he did. "I can get you a job too," he continued nonchalantly, "Which would give you some leverage."

If asked, Castiel could only say a hundred different things ran through his mind at that moment. Eventually the sentence Castiel chose as a reply was, "No." Even though he knew he was in no position to negotiate, he did anyway. "Teach me how to escape restraints, and then we're talking."

~:~:~

That afternoon Gabriel worked him hard; the lesson went so far as to send Castiel flying in the air and landing with a thud. Castiel groaned in pain. He had managed to get himself more bruises in one day than Dean had inflicted on him in three.

"Ouch," Gabriel cried and winced dramatically. "That must hurt considering your ass was already bruised," the short man mocked him, whirling one hand in the air. The two tall guys, whose names Castiel learned were Danny and Roy, burst out laughing.

"Get your ass up!" Gabriel roared and Castiel complied with much difficulty. He wouldn't want to imagine how painful it would be if his ass was actually already bruised as they assumed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gabriel howled again, clutching Castiel's scrub top with both hands. Their faces were so close Castiel thought he might have felt the other's spit on his face. "Are you enjoying your time with Dean so much you don't want to fight him anymore? Spare me then and stop wasting my time!"

Castiel searched his brain for the right answer. He wanted so damn badly to fight Dean earlier but now that he glimpsed hope of moving out of Dean's cell and had the possibility of getting a job, he didn't see the point of fighting anymore. Castiel had always prided himself as one who solved every problem with a civilized approach as opposed to barbaric ones, and he'd very much prefer to maintain that integrity even in impossible places such as this.

But before he could get the transfer, he still had to spend nights with Dean. He may be able to escape the binding, but he still had to fight, and who knows when that bastard would think he had had enough and decide to shove his dick up Castiel's ass? So, yes, the answer would be a yes, naturally.

"No, I don't enjoy my time with Dean," Castiel replied through gritted teeth. "And yes, I want to fight him."

If anything, he needed to gain control over himself. He didn't want to think what kind of a person Dean would turn him into – if it was anything humane at all.

"Good boy," Gabriel patted Cas twice upon the cheeks. "Now put your hands up!"

~:~:~

Castiel was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was wearing his dark blue business suit and tan trench coat, whereas his sister, who was sitting on a blanket in the middle of the back yard, was only five. It was their parents' house, the house where they grew up, the house that existed no longer.

"Castiel!" Anna called out to him, smiling brightly, her beautiful red hair shining in the sun. She inherited the auburn from their mother's mother, while he got his dark brown from their father's side.

Castiel smiled back warmly, walking towards her. Anna was a smart kid. She could pronounce his name correctly since before she was two years old. He sat down on the blanket. His sister was having a tea party, her favorite role to play.

"What are you serving today?" he asked, looking at the plastic pots and pans and kitchenware that lay around her. The trimming on her lacy white dress embellished the checkered red-and-white blanket she was sitting on.

His sister looked at him, studying his face for a moment with a dramatic, serious look on her own. He knew that underneath the innocence of a five-year-old, Anna understood things her peers wouldn't until they were several years older.

"You looked stressed." She observed. "I see anger and… fear?"

Castiel chuckled gently. His sister's words and actions would be cute if they weren't so creepily accurate. "What do you know about anger and fear?" he asked, ruffling her soft, long hair. "You are only five."

Anna waved him away grumpily with both hands, offended. "I know your anger and fear come from many sources," she replied with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

"All right, angel," Castiel said, trying his best to feign a smile. Anna may be smart, but this definitely was not the insight of someone her age. It was disturbing rather than amusing, but he didn't want to hurt his little sister's feelings. "I'm hungry. Would you make me something to eat, please?"

Smiling widely, Anna pretended to cook a meal with her plastic utensils until she put an empty teacup, an empty water glass, and an empty plate in front of him. "Here's your chamomile tea. It should help you relax and help with your bruises, as will this spinach baked with cheese and pineapple juice."

Castiel tried hard to hide the way he cringed. Anna's expansive knowledge was downright eerie. How did she know which foods benefited what aches and pains? And how could she tell he had bruises? He glanced down at his wrists; they were milky clean.

"Castiel! Anna!"

He was chilled to the bones as their names were called. Castiel turned to look. Standing on the porch was their mother, as young and as vibrant as he remembered her from old photographs.

"Dinner is ready," she called again, a beautiful smile adorning her lips.

Anna beamed, dropping everything she had in hand and standing up. She waited until he stood up, then she stretched her arms up, her fingers barely reaching his shoulders. He took the hint and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up. She tangled her arms over his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck.

"When I grow up," Anna said over his shoulder while they were walking to the house. "Can I be your mommy?"

It wasn't the first time he'd heard this. Castiel laughed, happy to have his innocent sister back. "Why?" he asked, despite knowing full well why.

"Because I want to cook for you like mommy cooks for us!" She beamed happily.

Chuckling, Castiel replied softly, kissing her cheek, "You can still be my sister and cook for me, you know?"

"Oh," she cried in a very small voice, then rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "So, can I start now?"

Without waiting for an answer, she wriggled herself out of Castiel's hold. Once she set foot on the ground, she ran straight to the house.

"Anna!"

Castiel tried to stop her, but she had already disappeared. A few seconds later, a piercing shriek returned to him.

"Anna!"

In a state of panic, Castiel rushed into the house. He stopped, seeing Anna was standing in the hallway, her eyes widening in shock as she stared at something in the kitchen. Her whole body was trembling, and Castiel dreaded every step he took as he drew nearer.

Blood. As he rounded the island, he found crimson blood. Dark, viscous blood pooled on the floor, growing as he inched further. Foul smells hit him sharply, but he fought the urge to gag. Curiosity and terror battled for dominance over his wobbly legs. Finally his curiosity won out and he walked in, exposing himself to the horrendous scene laying before his eyes.

Lying there were his parents, their faces contorted grotesquely, out of shock or terror Castiel could not tell. Their limbs were also unnaturally bent; he wouldn't want to imagine the excruciating pain it took to acquire the posture. Even more horrifying, however, was their torsos. They were torn open, shredded with bloody, slimy, yucky guts spilling out onto the ground.

His knees buckled and Castiel flopped, throwing up right where he was. It wasn't until his stomach emptied and he felt prickly acid burn along his esophagus that he thought of Anna. His little sister could not see this – his naïve little angel.

"Anna!"

Looking around, he saw nobody. Then he got a glimpse of little red hair in white dress running out and away through the backdoor.

"Anna!"

~:~:~

Castiel jerked awake, sitting up, drenched in sweat. The dreams had come back to him again. Since that incident, not a night had passed without him having a nightmare about his parents' murder. Every. Single. Night. Castiel dreaded those dreams. They were too vivid and too cruel.

He had tried going without sleep, but there was only so much his body could bear. The dreams returned again when he finally passed out, mocking him like a mean prankster. After that, he resorted to sleeping pills, only to find even drug-induced sleep was not immune to those nightmares. Then he thought of suicide, attempted it even.

There was one night he woke up, feeling so fed up he thought that was it. That was the night he was going to end it all. He ran into the kitchen, grabbing the biggest knife at hand and setting it against his throat. He stood like that for twenty minutes, the cold metal hardly scratching his skin. When he realized that this kind of suicide needed more courage than he could afford, he threw the knife away and moved to grab the bottle of bathroom cleaner. Closing his eyes and gulping it down couldn't be so hard, he reasoned. That is, until he brought the bottle close to his face. Its sharp smell cut through his nostrils and he suddenly winced.

Putting the bottle back down, he dropped to the floor and sobbed until he was a mess. In the end, he resolved to accept it like a malignant cancer in his body; malignant because it ate away at his soul, slowly walking him to his death. His only wish was that it would happen sooner rather than later.

He flopped back onto his pillow, feeling exhausted. Now that he was having nightmares again, he hadn't realized he had been free of them in the first place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had one of those dreams. What had changed to stop them, and now, to bring them back? Did it have something to do with him being in prison?

The morning call blared loudly, startling him. He exhaled, long and hard, one hand clutching at his thumping chest. His heartbeat barely calmed down when he heard clattering from the bunk above and he cursed everything that contributed to him already being so jumpy today.

Dean slid down to the floor, and Castiel hoped Dean would quickly disappear like always. But Dean didn't. He paused at the open bars and Castiel waited with a frightful, throbbing heart. To his relief, Dean didn't turn back to him as he had expected, but continued striding out and away.

_Dean—_

Something was different. Castiel couldn't recall any unpleasant memories from last night. Either nothing had happened or he could not remember it. He examined his wrists. Except for the old bruises that were now turning dark and purple, he didn't see any new marks. Or he couldn't differentiate the new ones from the old. He rubbed his palm all over his body, to see if there were any additional cuts or bruises, any new pains, but there weren't any.

Something was seriously wrong.

~:~:~

Castiel rushed to the table where Chuck was sitting, bumping into a few inmates along the way. They just glared at him and walked away when he muttered his apologies. He sat down opposite them, and Chuck and the other two inmates stared back at him.

"G… good morning," he said, cautiously turning to meet their gazes. It wouldn't be nice if there were people around when he asked Chuck what he wanted to ask.

Chuck had resumed eating his breakfast. "Your friends?" Castiel asked, gesturing to the other two people at the table.

"I don't have friends," Chuck replied flatly. Judging from how the other two chuckled, Castiel didn't think they were offended. They even gladly moved away when Chuck shooed them.

Castiel took the first chance. "I need to ask you something," he started. "Did I—" he stopped. Did I what? Did I have sex with Dean last night? He didn't realize how awkward his question could be until he tried to utter it. "Did you—" he tried again and failed. Did you what? Did you hear me moan last night? Oh, God, could he be more disgusting?

"If you were going to ask whether I heard any indecent activities from your cell last night," Chuck extended the courtesy of asking the unsaid question himself, and Castiel couldn't be more grateful, "the answer is no."

Castiel let out a heavy sigh of relief. Perhaps Dean had lost interest in him, and now he could serve his sentence with dignity, not disgrace.

"Look," Chuck said, a serious tone in his voice. "See that table down the hall?"

Looking over Chuck's shoulders, Castiel saw rows of tables and he had no idea which one Chuck was talking about. He saw, however, his friend talking to some guys at a too crowded table.

"That guy," Chuck said pointing in Nick's direction. "Everyone calls him Lucifer."

Castiel shuddered at the name. He couldn't for the life of him understand why anyone would name the nicest guy in this place after the Devil.

"Look at everyone sitting around his table," Chuck ordered. Castiel did and he noticed Uriel was also among those people. "Remember all their faces. Imprint them in your mind, and avoid them at all cost."

Castiel gaped at Chuck's words. He didn't know how to begin asking for logical reasons behind them. Then Castiel figured if they worshiped the person who abused and molested him, and called the only person who sympathized with and stood up for him Satan, he may be hanging out with the wrong people.

Chuck got up, collecting his tray and walking around to give Castiel a pat on the shoulder.

"Brace yourself, Castiel. Shit is just getting real."

~:~:~

**A/N:** Feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter. The next one will be told from Dean's POV, and a lot of your questions will be answered. Until then... have a marvelous 2013!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** As promised, here is Dean's side of the story. This story now has over 80 followers, which is much, much more than I could ever hope for. Thank you each and every one of you, especially to those who left their reviews.

ICYMI, this story is tagged with warnings for M/M non-con situations, coarse languages, and violence. Please kindly heed additional warnings for each chapter (if any).

This story is purely fictional and the author by no means promotes, supports or tolerates non-consensual sexual activities of any kind.

Please kindly give two more rounds of applause for **phaelsafe** for beta-reading this chapter.

Oh, and more than half of this chapter is in flashbacks but I don't want to put everything in italics. Hopefully you won't get confused.

~:~:~

"_I see a light coming from the east.  
__It will warm up your soul,  
__And it will bring destruction upon this place."_

~:~:~

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Chuck yelled, his voice echoing through the empty kitchen they were having the heated argument in.

"Keep your voice down, will you?" Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Even though they were in the far back, he didn't want to risk anyone overhearing them.

"The hell you were thinking?" Chuck continued, his voice now lowered almost to a normal level. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I can't do it anymore!" Dean hissed through gritted teeth, swinging an arm in the air as though he wanted to hit something to relieve his frustration.

Chuck threw his head back and sighed wearily. "Dean," he wailed, "we've been through this."

"I know!" Dean was now pacing up and down the aisle, flinging his arms. "But I can't—" he trailed off, rubbing both hands over his face. "I can't break him anymore. Not like this."

"Dean," Chuck said in a serious tone, "you know full well that if you don't, there will be consequences. Many lives are at stake here."

"We don't know that for sure, do we? We don't even know if anything _at all_ will happen!" he scoffed into Chuck's face.

"Now, that is downright insulting," Chuck returned flatly. "Tell me if my vision has been wrong once."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

"Did he warm up your soul?" Chuck continued.

Dean didn't even attempt to reply. He simply lifted a hand to pinch his lips shut with his fingers, then crossed his other arm over his chest.

"I take that as a yes." Chuck concluded with a nod.

"Okay, so what if one sentence of your _prophecy_ was true?" Dean added an air quote at the word prophecy. "Doesn't explain the rest, though. The guy is from California as far as I know. That is like as far west as west can be."

"You have to have faith, Dean," Chuck replied calmly. "Or do you think there could be another light that warms up your soul?"

As disturbing as it was, Dean hated to admit he professed strange feelings towards this Cas guy. It was as if Dean was drawn to him – not physically, but much, much deeper than that. He never felt it with anyone before; he doubted he would feel it with anyone ever again.

~:~:~

Usually Dean would hang around the newcomers' reception hall only when he heard there'd be potential threats coming in order to assess the threat, get a heads up and prepare to handle them (primarily in regards to Lucifer). But since Chuck told him of that prophecy a few weeks ago, Dean needed to be on a lookout for all of them. They had no idea what sort of 'light' they needed to watch out for.

That was where Dean first met him: Castiel Milton, the man who would be his new cellmate and the one who would change the course of his life. With an amusedly adorable mop of unruly dark hair and the brightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen, he looked more like a student visiting the prison on a field trip than an offender coming in for first-degree murder.

Dean had been pretending to swab the floor the day Cas arrived. The floor was already sparkling clean as an officer droned on through the orientation lecture for the newcomers. Suddenly Cas' eyes turned his way and Dean held his breath even though he knew the guy wasn't looking at him. He followed Cas' gaze and landed upon a normal-looking butterfly that decided to rest on the windowsill. When he turned back, Cas was smiling a sweet, reminiscent smile, and Dean _knew_ they had found the one they'd been looking for.

But if any officer saw Cas smiling during his first orientation, they'd think he was being defiant and he was sure to come in for a rough ride while serving his time here. Thinking quickly, Dean dropped the mop onto the floor with a loud clack, causing everyone to turn his way. He already had his back to the crowd when he picked the long handle up and muttered his apologies to the officers before quickly walking away.

Then came the time Cas had to be sent to his cell. Dean played it cool by keeping still. He had mastered the art of playing dead, but when Cas inched closer, as if wanting to feel his pulse, Dean slipped. No one here had ever cared if he lived or died before. For someone who feigned death it was ironic to hear his heart beat so erratically in his ears, even long after Cas had disappeared under his bed. This guy – with all his naivety and too-trusting attitude – was going to be the death of him, literally, if Dean didn't do something about it and let Cas wing it on his own.

~:~:~

So that was how Dean found himself on top of Cas, committing what anyone would call a sexual assault. It was the only way to send a quick signal to the entire prison to keep their hands off him. Also, if Cas wanted to survive this prison, he needed to shake loose his innocence. It seemed so right a decision at the time, but afterwards, when Dean had to wipe the tears off Cas' face and tug him in all his unconsciousness to bed, it broke his heart. He had been very cautious about it, making sure Cas wasn't hurt (except for the restraints, which were unavoidable) and fully aroused, but it was a violation nonetheless. No amount of good intention could justify it.

Dean would have had stopped had Cas' first day gone by with no problem. Most inmates got the message and kept their distance, but someone hadn't taken Dean seriously and approached Cas in the shower. On top of that, Dean had tested Cas by slipping a paperclip in his food, but that night when Cas had fallen asleep - in the most adorable way, Dean thought - with the paperclip laying recklessly on the bed beside him, Dean realized Cas hadn't the slightest idea how to survive here. Tying Cas up to the bed, Dean reminded himself that if Gabriel didn't get his lazy ass into gear he would make sure his candy supply was cut off. Knowing tonight the entire prison would have to hear _both_ of their voices, Dean took a deep breath before waking up the sleeping beauty.

He would be lying if he said it wasn't fantastic. He loved the way Cas felt under his fingers. The way Cas writhed underneath him, trying to suppress his moans, only encouraged Dean to find the right angle and the right pressure in order to break them out of those lips. It left Dean dreaming, like a fucking girl, of the day he would be able to make love to Cas like he would his lover: gentle, hot, reciprocal. So, the next night, when Cas said he wanted to kiss him, Dean fell into a trance as if he had been enchanted by a magic spell.

But who was he kidding? Until Cas could fight him off, Dean would have to be the enforcer. Dean thought he would speed things up a little bit. The sooner he reached his goal, the sooner he wouldn't have to hurt Cas. By turning a victim into a perpetrator, yielding himself to the receiving end, Dean let Cas have a taste of being the abuser. He had coerced Cas into assaulting him, and Cas had complied, brutally thrusting his cock down Dean's throat until it hurt for days. He may have done too good a job at that, because even though he waited, there were no tears coming from Cas' eyes. In the end, Dean cried for both of them, for the mistakes he made, and for the innocence lost.

Regardless of Dean's intentions, sooner or later this would all backfire on him.

~:~:~

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, seeing that Cas was not walking back to their cell after breakfast one morning.

This was the first conversation Dean had had with Cas in the daylight. As long as he knew Cas was safe, Dean kept his distance and avoided any form of communication. But now Cas was breaking his routine, and Dean had no knowledge of it beforehand.

"Work," Cas replied flatly, his eyes narrowing in a way Dean could only interpret as _disgust_.

'That's new,' Dean thought, masking his surprise with a trained stoic appearance. "How did you get a job?" he asked. No one here got a job without coming through him.

"Why, Dean?" Castiel took a step closer and stared right into his eyes. "You have a problem with me going to work?"

Dean gulped. He knew Cas could be defiant; didn't mean getting it right to his face wasn't unnerving.

"You want to chain me up to the bed?" Cas continued sneering. "In that case, you'll have to get yourself a pet, Dean, cause last time I checked, I am still a human being – and one hundred percent sane," he finished and started storming away.

"Cas," Dean called, grabbing an arm to stop him. He may have pulled a little too harshly, because those shiny blue eyes were now only inches away, gazing at him with an intensity that pierced into his soul.

"It's Castiel," Cas hissed. "You don't get to call me Cas, and you don't get to touch me."

Cas jerked his arm away. Dean watched as the smaller man walked away, his shoulders trembling with fury.

~:~:~

Last night, Dean opened his eyes to find it dark. Even though he needed a solid four hours each night, his instincts kept his sleep light. Cas was talking in his sleep again.

He slid down the bed quietly, looking at the man before him caught in a troubled sleep.

"Anna—"

That was the name Cas kept calling. Who was this Anna? His wife? He had asked Sam to look into it and had yet to hear back from his brother. He watched with a troubling heart as sweat broke across Cas' forehead and all Dean wanted to do was to wipe it and those dreams away. As Cas began to writhe violently, her name slipped from his mouth with increasing frequency and volume. Dean stopped himself from reaching out to hold Cas in his arms, to calm him down and tell him everything was all right. Dean had sworn the next time he touched Cas must be because Cas wanted him to.

By the time Cas jerked awake, Dean was already back in his bed. He heard the sound of water running from the faucet and Cas must have splashed it all over his head. Then Dean would feel his presence, like always. He didn't have to look to know Cas was standing there, looking at him. Each day, it got closer and closer. The night before, he could feel Cas rested his head on the small railing of his bedside, but tonight, tonight he could feel the softest touch of Cas' fingers picking at the edge of his blanket. It was _so_ close. So close that Dean thought if only he turned back – if only he turned back, he would be able to pull the man into his arms and embrace him.

When Dean turned back, Cas was already gone.

~:~:~

"Between you and him, Dean, you need to be the strong one." Chuck took the opportunity to continue when Dean didn't reply. "You can't fold just because you don't have the nerve to ready him for battle."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Dean asked, his voice almost a wailing. "We don't even know what kind of _destruction_ he will bring." Again, another air-quote. "It could be, I don't know, a good one?" Dean said with a sheepish shrug.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Hello, Dean? Wake up! Look where we are," Chuck said, snapping his fingers. "Almost everyone here has killed someone, Dean. Do you think they will aim for a _peaceful_ destruction? You have to do this. When the time comes – and it will – he needs to be able to protect himself."

"Fine!" Dean retorted. "I'll find another way."

"Dean—"

"I'll find another way," he insisted. "I'll keep an eye on him in the meantime."

"Can you watch him every minute of every day?" Chuck countered. "Can you trust your men? What if they lost sight of him for five minutes? You of all people should know a lot can happen within a five-minute time frame."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Dean hissed again, because Chuck was right and Dean had no answer for that.

Chuck didn't flinch. "If you don't break him, somebody will. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Dean rubbed both hands over his face, sighing long and hard. "Fine. Let it happen then," Dean said with resolve, and Chuck didn't even try to hide the look of horror on his face. "Let somebody get to him and I can finish that bastard off and be done with your proph—"

"DEAN!"

A shout of his name cut him off mid-sentence. The unmistakable panic in the voice let Dean know something truly awful was happening. An inmate came into sight.

"Oh, thank God, I finally found you," the guy rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Come quick. It's Castiel."

The mention of the name made Dean headed out immediately, shouting back to Chuck, "Go get Gabriel!"

~:~:~

To say Dean snapped at what he saw was an understatement.

Cas was naked, on his knees, hands tied behind his back, with someone's cock shoved down his mouth. Dean hurled his fist at the culprit instantly, hitting his face so hard he could almost hear the cracking of bone.

"The boy is mine!" Dean shouted, splattering blood and knocking out a tooth as he threw another punch.

Somebody hurled Dean off and Dean knocked him away with a right cross. He turned back and was hit with a knee to the stomach, twice. Dean backed away from the assaults.

"I thought you were bored with him, Dean," the guy taunted, and Dean looked up to see it was Uriel, _that bastard_. "So I thought I'd play with him, you know, to keep him from getting too lonely."

"That boy toy is mine," Dean hissed, straightening up. He was ready for another fight. "I can play with him or not as I damn well please."

Dean took the first two jabs from Uriel. He returned with a one-two and dodged a swing. Dean countered with an uppercut to the ribs and series of straights to the torso. Once he got close enough, he locked his hands behind Uriel's neck and kneed him in the stomach one, two, three times, causing red blood to spill from his mouth. Uriel used his greater mass to heave Dean away.

Dean tried to maintain his balance but hits to his face and chest followed too quickly. He used his leg to throw Uriel off balance, unsuccessfully. But it did get Uriel to sway backwards. Dean followed with straight, hard punches to the face. Seeing Uriel become woozy, Dean struck him with a spinning kick right to his head. Uriel fell to the ground. Dean hurled himself atop the other man, throwing punch after punch after punch—

"Dean, stop it!"

The voice chimed in his ears like a bell. Someone held his arm, stopping his swing and Dean turned to see Cas. His bright eyes flickered with unfathomable expression. A blanket barely covered his naked body, and Dean saw bruises across his neck that he damn well knew weren't caused by him.

He abruptly stood up and, scruffing Cas by the neck, slammed his face on Uriel's chest. The bloody mess was just a nose tip away from Cas' face.

"Why, Cas?" he snarled. "You enjoyed sucking his dick so much that you don't want me to hurt him?" Cas shook his face against Dean's tight grip. New tears started rolling over old stains. "Tell you what, how about I cut his dick off and feed it to you for breakfast, huh? You like that? You man-whore!" he growled.

"No," Cas sobbed. "Dean, please."

"Need I remind you who you belong to?" Dean barked.

"I'm yours, Dean," Cas whimpered. "I'm yours."

"Good," Dean said, propelling Cas to his feet. He tightened the blanket, twisting his fingers into the cloth, and started walking. He stopped in front of Gabriel.

"Finish the job," Dean said, pointing to the heap of man-mess on the floor, and the troublemakers held captive by Dean's men. "I need to teach someone a lesson."

~:~:~

Dean threw Cas on the bed and threw himself on top of him. His worst fear had turned real. What would've happened if he hadn't gotten there fast enough? What if there were more men against him? What if he had lost the fight? He had to declare, again, that Cas was his, but would the message get across? How long would he have to live in fear that this might happen again? Or was that the last 'destruction' Chuck prophesied? Seeing Cas in such a vulnerable position had snapped him in half. His precious, delicate angel, _his light_–

"Dean, Dean, stop." Cas' voice broke his train of thought. "You're hurting yourself."

_Hurting myself? What was he saying?_

It took Dean a moment to realize that, in his attempt to 'teach a lesson', Dean was dry-humping them. Neither of them was hard.

Even now, after all that had happened, Cas still thought of Dean first. Cas should hate him, should be disgusted with him – and Dean deserved it for being the brutal dick that he was, for failing to keep Cas safe in spite of that fact.

"Why are you doing this to me, Cas?" Dean said meekly next to Cas' ear.

He wasn't aware he was shaking until he felt soothing hands stroking gently at his back. He wasn't aware he was spilling tears until he felt tender lips on his cheek, drinking them away. Dean nuzzled into the touch because it was so comforting, and comfort was what Dean had been lacking for so long.

Dean breathed in, basking in the feeling of Cas' caresses, of their intimacy, of the way his heart fluttered and the world reeled at it all. Their lips met, and Dean savored it like he would his favorite piece of apple pie. He nibbled chapped lips, tasting salty tears and softly smudging them. Cas slightly parted his lips and Dean ran his tongue along white lines of teeth, teasing but not entering. He felt a hand grasped at the back of his neck, neither pushing nor pulling but locking him in place.

Dean smiled against the shivering lips, and started kissing him, for real this time. He slipped his tongue in, groping and searching and learning every corner and every curve of the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas groaned into it, and while his hand was steady behind Dean's neck, his arms squeezed Dean tighter. Satisfied, Dean yielded, and take over Cas did; he sucked and sighed into Dean's lips, inviting him closer, wanting him more.

After Dean sweetly complied, he pulled away just enough to see Cas' flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, feeling Cas' chest heave beneath him. Dean rested his forehead against Cas', catching his breath when he smugly asked, "Aren't you going to bite my tongue off?"

Cas smiled, a hand coming to pat Dean on the cheek. "Maybe next time."

~:~:~

**A/N:** Let me know what you think of the chapter! If you still feel the urge to throw me rotten food, I suggest your veggies of choice not be green beans or celery. Alternatively, you can throw me West Collins, who basically eats the whole produce section.

More sexy times coming up. Stay tuned! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter summary:** After the Uriel incident, things take a drastic turn.

**Additional chapter warnings: **General PTSD

**A/N:** My heartfelt apologies this chapter took too long to update. Rest assured I will see it through, and if you're still reading this, you have my heart.

In case you've already forgotten, in the previous chapter, Cas was attacked by Uriel. Dean came to the rescue and they shared a kiss. :)

Special thanks to **alittlebitwicked** and **phaelsafe** who alpha and beta read this chapter respectively. Oh, and thank you to all of you who left your reviews. They were all very much appreciated!

~:~:~

Castiel lay awake in the dark. He didn't know what time it was, but now that the nightmare had woken him — again — he had no intention of going back to sleep. Lights from spotlights outside were beaming through the windows opposite his cell. The building had five floors, each with fifteen cells that housed two inmates, and it faced a high wall with windows wide enough to offer a glimpse of freedom. Whoever designed the place had a cruel sense of humor though; the inmates were separated from the windows by a gaping space. Any attempt to escape would end with a fatal fall. Castiel was on the first floor so he only really had to worry about bodies falling to the platform outside his cell and splashing blood through the metal bars.

Shuddering at the thought, Castiel pulled the thin blanket tighter around himself. He missed Dean. He missed Dean's warmth. He missed Dean's weight on him. He missed Dean's everything. That feeling was real, and it had always been so — he just hadn't been able to admit it until now.

And though it was real, he couldn't tell whether he really felt something for Dean or if he simply wanted Dean to chase away those nightmares. He had learned to live with them before, but he found it hard to accept them now that he had a taste of what it was like to be alive without them. Maybe that was why he craved his cure — namely, Dean — more than ever.

He had stood there in the dark beside Dean's bed often enough, trembling with terror from what his dreams had become. And Dean would sleep on, the rhythm of his breathing steady and serene, ignorant of Castiel's plight. In those shaky moments Castiel couldn't tell if fear or desire lured him to Dean, but he would eventually come to his senses and retreat back to the unsafe shadows, even more scared of his wavering feelings.

So that day when Dean had called him out in broad daylight to ask about his job, Castiel had flipped. A silent agreement had existed (or so it had seemed) between them: they wouldn't interact during the day — or, lately, at all — and then Dean had crossed that line. At such close proximity all Castiel had seen were the lucid lines of Dean's face, and he had wanted to crush their lips together. His attempt to calm the thumping pulse behind his ears had been in vain, and so Castiel had responded to Dean more harshly than he had intended. But it didn't matter as long as Dean had thought Cas was trembling with fury and not infatuation.

Perhaps he should've more carefully considered Chuck's words, but Castiel had been arrogant instead. What Dean had done to him was nothing compared to what those bastards had done. He still remembered the predatory look in their eyes that had projected nothing but lust and malice. They had laughed as they cornered and stripped and mercilessly abused him. He had been defenseless and pathetic, hoping someone would come to his rescue. When _no one_ had, his hope had slipped away with each tear that rolled down his face.

Castiel knew it was clichéd, but he had seen the light, had his hope restored when Dean had come into sight. He never doubted — not even for a second — that Dean would join Uriel instead of saving him. What he doubted, however, was just when he had started to trust Dean this much.

"_The boy is mine!" _

That voice was still ringing in his ears. Such a declaration should've been intimidating, but to him it had sounded almost like a confession of love. Given the right circumstances, he would have blushed upon hearing it, but then Dean's rage had risen beyond boiling point, and it had become downright scary as his offender lay still in a pool of blood while Dean seemed oblivious to that fact and kept punching him. Uriel could have died if he had not stopped Dean.

Uriel had been sent to an outside hospital immediately after, and no one knew what had become of him. His sidekicks had been given two weeks in solitary while Dean and his men had been sentenced to three nights for 'causing chaos.'

Two more nights, Castiel chanted to himself. He had to endure it for two more nights and then he'd be free from this misery.

~:~:~

Castiel remained in bed for as long as he could. Knowing the prison guards would yank him out eventually, he got up and made his way to the canteen. He kept his head down and sat in the corner farthest away from the crowd but he didn't go unnoticed. Despite the invisible bubble that seemed to keep anyone from approaching him, Castiel could still hear the whispers, feel the stolen glances; he felt nauseated.

"Thought you'd never show up," Chuck remarked, appearing from out of nowhere and making Cas jump. His food tray was still full as he sat down across from Cas.

With the way his heart pounded in his ribcage, Castiel was unable to form any reply.

"How are you feeling?" the scrawny inmate asked, spooning a small portion of food into his mouth.

"Fine," Cas retorted. Stabbing at the sorry excuse for mashed potatoes, he wondered why he bothered taking the food if he didn't really feel like eating. There was a good chance he'd lost a few pounds since coming here, but that had to do with his lack of appetite — though the food really was awful. "I _am_ fine. Why can't everyone just act normal?"

Chuck shrugged. He continued to unhurriedly eat his breakfast.

At the sight, Castiel narrowed his eyes. He was used to Dean's men keeping an eye on him but this was suffocating.

"You don't need to do this," Castiel said, rolling his fork mindlessly among his green peas.

"Do what?" Chuck asked.

"This," he gestured towards Chuck's plate which still held quite a lot of food. "You don't need to babysit me."

"Right." Chuck snorted. "And have Dean kill me when he gets out? Please."

Castiel shivered at the mention of the name but before he could respond, Gabriel appeared from out of the corner of his eye.

Horror gripped Castiel suddenly, and he gaped. "What have you been doing?"

"What?" Chuck asked, a questioning look upon his face.

"You and Dean and Gabriel. What kind of sick joke are you playing?" Castiel's face contorted with revulsion, and he gradually withdrew to the other end of the table, trembling. His voice faltered as he uttered, "You had Dean assault me just so you and Gabe could get near me?"

"Look, I can explain..." Chuck said, sliding along the table after Castiel. When the other man didn't respond, Chuck snapped his fingers a few times. "Castiel!"

Cas was jolted back only to find himself staring at the other inmate.

"We wanted to help you," Chuck continued.

"Help? How?" Castiel looked blank, his voice barely a whisper.

Chuck remained still, his mouth opening then closing as he thought. Several long seconds later, he sighed. "It's complicated."

"Try me," Castiel insisted.

"We wanted to prevent situations from happening like, you know, the one with Uriel," Chuck stammered, his hands waving about. Before Castiel could protest, Chuck pointed to another inmate. "See that guy over there?"

The man's torso was swathed in bandages, bruises visible along their edges. An orange scrub top was loosely draped across his shoulders.

"It was his turn to keep an eye on you when that happened."

A chill crept over Castiel. He hadn't realized there had been other victims. The other man looked like he had received worse treatment than Cas had. "Uriel did that to him?"

Chuck shook his head slightly. He let out a worried sigh before he said, "Let's just say he brought on himself."

It didn't make sense to Castiel. The guy was obviously one of Dean's if he was meant to keep Cas safe. If Uriel did not do that to him, then who—

"You mean Dean did that to him?" Castiel cried in disbelief.

"Prison 101, Castiel," Chuck stated calmly. "We live by a different set of rules from the outside world."

Castiel remained stumped. That inmate was injured not because he had been attacked, but because he had failed to keep watch on Cas?

"Ever play Jenga?" Chuck continued, ignoring the look of disbelief on Castiel's face. "Imagine each inmate here as woodblocks stacked on top of each other. Right now Dean is the one who keeps the vulnerable structure from falling."

"Then you come along," Chuck says, demonstrating with his hands. "But you're not a block; you're a... a crystal ball. How are you supposed to fit without causing the whole tower to collapse?"

Castiel frowned. "Why do you think I'm different?"

"I can see your soul, Castiel," Chuck said matter-of-factly. "Just like I can see Dean's and everyone's here."

Cas swallowed down a lump in his throat. He assured himself that there was no way Chuck could see his deepest secret.

"I don't care how you got in here but if you don't learn to stay out of trouble, other people are going to get hurt."

For whatever reason, Chuck was keeping things from him. It didn't make sense that Chuck wouldn't tell Cas, especially since everything seemed to revolve around him.

"Look," Chuck said with a small sigh. "Just so you know, Castiel, Dean is sorry about what he did to you. He really is."

Castiel thought of everything that had happened. His experience with Dean had been scary at first. It still was, though that was a different kind of fear. He was afraid of his true feelings for Dean; he was afraid to find out what Dean really felt for him. If nothing else he hoped Dean didn't regret it because Cas surely didn't.

"I know," Castiel gently replied before moving back to his tray. Breakfast would be over soon so he took a few bites. Chuck in turn gulped down his own food, and Castiel was thankful for the familiar sight.

~:~:~

Ducking his head to avoid everyone's eye contact, Castiel walked over to meet Gabriel at their usual spot during rec time. The shorter guy was sitting by himself on a bench, a lollipop stick rolling around between his lips.

"No class today," he said, taking the candy out as Castiel approached him.

"Shocking," Castiel murmured to himself. Everything was off today; that his self-defense class had also been cancelled shouldn't come as a surprise.

Before he could turn away, Gabriel stopped him.

"Sit," his teacher commanded. "It's my turn to keep watch on you. I'm not following you around."

Castiel rolled his eyes before dropping down next to the guy. This was just like living in a prison within a prison.

He was surprised, though, when Gabriel offered him candy. He unwrapped the package and took it into his mouth, watching as the other man let out a small sigh and gazed vacantly ahead.

"I'm sorry," Castiel mumbled. His teacher looked kind of lonely without his entourage beside him. Danny and Roy had also been given three nights in solitary for helping Cas out. Gabriel, however, had somehow managed to dodge the guards. "If there's anything I can do—"

"If you want to help me jerk off," Gabriel cut in. He sounded more bored than irritated. Castiel could only blink; again, he had no idea what he had missed.

"You think you're the only ones having sexy times here?" Gabriel snorted as Castiel's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. "Only you could make that much noise. _'Dean, please,'_" he mocked in high-pitched whines. "_'Dean!'_"

Flames built within Castiel from a mixture of fury and embarrassment, and he hissed, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are not worthy of your king!" Gabriel snapped, one hand slapping against the bench they were sitting on, making Cas jump. "You know why my boys and I can keep the relationship? Because we don't require half the population here to make sure we don't get a dick shoved up our asses!"

"There were four people!" Castiel fired back. He was getting sick of people accusing him instead of the culprits. "Four! How do you think I could have defended myself?"

"Do you think the same thing would happen to Dean?" Gabriel said, taunting Cas to his face. "That if Dean was cornered by four people he would just suck everyone's dicks?"

Castiel trembled at the memories. He remembered how degrading it had felt to be on his knees, his dignity ripped away from him. While one dick was choking him, three others were being jerked, waiting for their turns to persecute him.

He felt like vomiting.

"It can't happen again," Castiel kept chanting to himself. It couldn't happen again. He had more than enough nightmares to deal with. Adding another would only push him to the brink of insanity.

"Cas, Cassie, hey, you with me?"

Until Gabriel shushed him, Castiel hadn't realized he'd been rocking. This couldn't be happening. His voice broke as he begged, "Help me."

~:~:~

The days passed by slowly, and Castiel recoiled from any form of human interaction. He was grateful that everyone kept their distance for whatever reason (except Chuck who stayed plastered to him like super glue), though that only served as a constant reminder of just how vulnerable he was. Sometimes his eyes would meet those obviously belonging to his bodyguards which would make him feel even more feeble.

Other than his class with Gabriel, Castiel only eagerly awaited Dean's return. He couldn't really feel safe unless he knew Dean was nearby. He would also very much like to continue from where they left off — the adrenaline fueled kiss they shared just before the guards hauled them away — though he was skeptical about whether Dean would feel the same way. Not knowing when Dean was to be released that day, he was surprised to find the other man already sitting on the top bunk after breakfast.

Castiel had been standing inside their cell for quite some time, but Dean seemed ignorant of his presence, even when the blare of the siren startled him and the metal bars slid shut. It shattered all his anticipation. Dean probably wanted to play their little silence game again, but he could not allow that to continue.

He finally mustered his courage. "Hello, Dean."

Dean set the book he'd been reading aside and casually propped himself up on his elbow. "Oh, hey, Cas."

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Cas asked, "How have you been?"

"I missed my bed," Dean replied, relaxing into a stretch and rolling back onto the mattress. Castiel was reminded of a cat and his heart fluttered at the thought.

"Look," Cas said, drawing Dean's attention back to him. Castiel dared to step closer, looking right into Dean's eyes as he continued, "Thank you for saving me, Dean."

"You're very welcome," Dean replied with a beautiful smile that seemed to make his freckles shimmer. Then, for a moment, Castiel thought Dean would touch him, ruffle his hair or cup his cheek, but his hope turned frail when his hand fell back to the bed.

Dean cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. "So, uh," he began. "You've been good?"

At the question, Castiel couldn't help but look down and toy with his fingers. "Yeah, I guess," he replied with a reluctant shrug. As good as he could be — he doubted anything could be called _good_ here. "Chuck kept me company most of the time, and Gabriel has been very helpful."

Dean nodded grimly. "Good," he said more to himself than to Cas.

"Dean," Castiel said, looking up at Dean again. Dean met his gaze. "I'm sorry that you — everyone — had to go through so much trouble because of me. I want you to know that I really appreciate all that you've done, but you don't need to worry about me now. You can drop your guard since I'm excelling in my lessons with Gabriel."

It was not that he was confident with his defense techniques now (though he was determined to be able to take care of himself, eventually), he just didn't want other people to get hurt because of him.

"Yeah?" A lop-sided grin spread across Dean's face as he slid down from his bunk, his focus suddenly resembling that of a bird of prey. Castiel took a few uncertain steps back, but Dean followed. "Let's see, shall we?"

Suddenly, Dean seized Castiel by the shirt with both hands and threw him against the bars. Just as quickly, Castiel grabbed at Dean's shirt and slid down, throwing Dean off balance enough that he hit his head against the bars. Bashing Dean in the elbow knocked the strength from his hold, then Castiel attacked the other man's abdomen until he was loose. He stood, pushed Dean away and hurled himself after, intending to follow through with a kick to the crotch. At the last minute though, he realized what he was doing and broke off his attack. He landed full-force on Dean and they stumbled backwards, arms around each other until they hit the edge of the bunks.

"Whoa, easy, tiger," Dean said, his wide grin betraying the prominently perilous situation. "You're going to hurt baby Winchester?"

Castiel went red to his ears and he tried to catch his breath, although he'd say it was because of the fight and not because Dean's flushed face was only inches away.

"Sorry," he mumbled without the slightest hint of atonement; Castiel was too distracted by Dean's plump lips. Dean's arms still locked him in place with his back set against the bed's ladder, but Castiel had no intention of moving.

Dean chewed his lower lip in a way Cas could only interpret as seductively, and Castiel flicked his eyes to the man in front of him. Dean's hazel irises had turned deep green, and Castiel could say his sensibilities had been taken over by the demanding urges in his nether region.

He closed the space between them, nibbling on the luscious mouth that was too enticing to resist. He pressed himself into Dean, their tongues playing together as the kiss became heated. Castiel clasped his hands behind Dean's neck as desperate hands groped down his back, his hips—

"_Ah! Fuck! Yes! That's it! Harder!"_

They both stopped. Now they were facing each other but the voice was still audible, if not louder. Straining his ears, Castiel could hear uncanny cries, throaty moans, shaky breath and _holy—_ was that the sound of skin slapping skin?

"What is that?" Castiel wondered out loud, his voice low and guttural.

Dean smirked amusedly. "I think Gabriel is giving us free porn," he replied with a wink.

Castiel groaned into Dean's shoulder. Didn't the guy say he didn't like making a show of it?

"_Yes, baby! That's it right there! Give it to me! Faster!"_

This must be what it was like when others had to listen to _his_ noises. It was embarrassing. Then inmates from other cells began to catcall and heckle the porn-star couple. At least when Dean had him going he didn't shout out 'Harder, Dean, please, right there!'

_Shit._ The image was making his groin twitched dangerously, and Gabriel's noises weren't helping. Dean held him still, but Castiel swore he could feel Dean's muscles ripple.

"_Yeah! That's it, boy! Ride me, my strong stallion! Breed me with your seed!"_

Both he and Dean cracked up at the same time. Other people were making loud gagging sounds.

"Now _that_'s a major turn off," Dean commented smugly, and Castiel couldn't agree more.

"I say we continue our show after lights out," Dean purred into his ear and Castiel felt himself blush in response. "What do you say?"

"If you wish, Dean," he replied with a smile, placing one quick kiss to Dean's lips. At least he would not be alone tonight. "But no show."

"Whatever you say, angel," Dean said with a cheerful grin.

Castiel stiffened at the nickname, but he brushed it away with a shake of his head.

~:~:~

That night Dean settled onto Cas' bed instead of his own, and leisurely they kissed resting side by side. Castiel would've been content, but he dreaded every passing minute since they both would doze off soon.

"Dean," he said, breaking the kiss to rub his thumb along Dean's stubble. His eyes met attentive green. "I want you to touch me."

When Dean pulled away Castiel couldn't read the look on his face; but then, he was being kissed again and gently pushed onto his back. Dean straddled his waist, pressing their bodies together as he nuzzled, then ravished the crook of Cas' neck.

Castiel writhed under Dean's weight, his neck straining as he arched into the touch. This was happening and he needed to feel it. He needed to feel the way Dean took over his body, mind, and soul — but his clothes were in the way.

He pushed at Dean until he could remove his top. Once gone, he pulled Dean down to his chest because he loved the way Dean breathed heat across his heart before sucking on his hard nipples. Dean trailed his kisses lower, and Castiel gasped then sighed in relief when his pants were shoved aside. A palm spread over his leaking head then wrapped around his hard cock, gently stroking it. Castiel moved his hips, desperate for a more satiating touch, but Dean held him down. It took all Castiel had not to knock Dean off with his knees when Dean nibbled at his thigh.

"Dean, please," he whimpered.

He could feel the moment Dean smirked into his skin but when lips wrapped around his erection, Castiel abruptly recoiled away from the touch. His back hit the metal at the head of the bed as memories flooded him, the memories of someone else's dick pushing to the back of his throat mingling with those of how he had thrust into Dean's mouth until he could no longer tell which was which. Castiel clutched at the sheet until his fingers ached but he couldn't stop himself from shaking.

"Hey, hey," Dean said gently. He climbed onto Cas' lap, and the weight pinning Cas to the mattress was steady and calming. When Dean forcefully unclasped Cas' fingers and entwined them with his own, he pampered Cas' ears with sweet nonsense, a soothing litany. Once Dean had a hold on him, he pulled Cas' hands above his head and then some, stretching Cas out until he was straining. Surprisingly, it did the trick.

Dean leaned in closer, ghosting warm breath and a soft touch over his lips until Cas' erratic heartbeat started to slow. Soon, Castiel surrendered his fear to Dean's hold and fell limp to the control. Licking at his lips brought a kiss from Dean, unhurried as though Dean could spend all the time in the world cherishing him.

When Castiel visibly relaxed, Dean let go of him. Cas slowly slid back down to the bed without breaking the kiss, his arms wrapping around Dean and pulling until they were once more kissing lazily.

After a long while Castiel pulled away slightly. Dean's lips were beautifully red and juicy.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, one finger picking at Dean's scrub top. Dean was still fully clothed while Castiel was completely naked. Dean pulled him in and hugged him tight.

"No need to apologize," Dean said, kissing the top of his head. "Better get you dressed before you fall asleep, huh?"

Dean moved to find Castiel's discarded clothes and Cas started to panic. No, no, it couldn't end like this. He'd rather be cut into pieces than have to replay his parents' death again.

Castiel crawled on top of Dean, straddling him and rocking their hips together. "No, Dean," he cried pathetically. "I need you."

_I need you to help to me, Dean. Help me get away from those nightmares. Touch me. Take me. Anything you want. Just make them go away!_

"Okay, okay, Cas. Cas!" Dean cried. When Castiel didn't stop, he placed both hands on Cas' hips, steadying them. "Okay," Dean said, only starting again when he had Castiel's attention, "but I need you to trust me on this. Do you trust me?"

_Foolishly so, yes._

Castiel nodded.

"Say it," Dean commanded.

But Castiel was reluctant. Did he really know Dean? He knew Dean had saved him from Uriel and the gang, but perhaps Dean was just a possessive psycho-freak who didn't want to share Cas with anyone. Admittedly, he kind of appreciated not being tossed around. Being molested by one person was, of course, better than being assaulted by the entire prison population — _if_ molested was the right word at all.

With no consent issues, Dean's touch might not be that bad. He might even _crave_ them – those warm and protective gropes.

But saying it out loud was not easy; he'd end up either lying or admitting an unwelcome fact. Maybe he could convince himself that he did this because he had yet to prove the connection between Dean and his nightmares.

Softly and slowly, looking Dean in the eyes, he said, "I trust you."

"Okay," Dean said with a firm nod. "Now kiss me."

So Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean who welcomed it eagerly. Dean braced his arms against Cas' shoulder blades, pulling Cas in and pushing himself up, tightening the hug. The kiss evolved into something needy and desperate, and Castiel found himself frotting against Dean's growing erection. Dean raked his fingers along Cas' spine and Cas grunted into the kiss. He felt heat building up as Dean rubbed the small of his back, pressing their hips together and curving his palms down Cas' ass. Castiel couldn't help arching his back as he thrust his hips harder against Dean's.

Dean took advantage and threw Cas down on the bed, manhandling him until he was on his stomach. Cas didn't have time to panic as Dean draped himself over Cas, the full weight of Dean's body pressing him into the mattress, his painful, throbbing erection trapped against his stomach between them. Dean sucked the spot behind his ear — Cas knew Dean knew he loved it, and Cas couldn't help but _mewl_.

Castiel writhed as Dean trailed his way down and along the way found sensitive spots Cas never realized were there. He tried, within the tight space he was granted, to rub his leaking cock against the firm mattress and wriggle his ass against Dean's hips. His whole body was burning and Cas was desperate for something, anything to tamp down the fire.

"Dean, please," he begged, his voice no more than a pitiful sob. "Please."

Sitting up, Dean braced his back against the wall and pulled Cas between his wide-spread legs. Castiel leaned back until his head rested on Dean's shoulder. He could feel Dean's thick cock rubbing against the small of his back. Dean hugged him tight, his hands roaming over Cas' chest, squeezing his stomach, scrubbing along his lower thighs - touching anywhere but his pulsing and desperate-for-attention cock.

Castiel reached for it, but Dean batted his hand away.

"Why, Dean?" Cas asked, pressing himself further into Dean, one hand reached up to grab at Dean's hair. "I need—"

"You need my fingers, Cas?" Dean purred, nibbling at his earlobe. Cas quickly nodded and groaned. "Put 'em where you want 'em."

Castiel at once grabbed Dean's hands, placing one on his cock and one on his testicles. Dean gave them a gentle squeeze, eliciting a satisfying moan from Cas' lips.

"Keep your hands over mine," Dean whispered, but all Cas could hear was hot breath in his ear. He didn't remove his hands though, even when Dean quickened his pace.

Cas barely had the strength to control his body, let alone where his fingers were. When he felt the familiar build of tension, hands that had been simply placed over Dean's now pressed him on. Dean's rasping breath scattered the droplets of sweat that ran down Cas' back. A few hard pulls later, Castiel's muscles tensed up and he came, spilling hot over their hands. Dean milked out every last drop, smearing streams across Cas' belly and thigh.

Leaning back against Dean, Castiel drowned in the afterglow as the other man cleaned them up. Arms clasping around his waist, Dean placed a few kisses to Cas' sweaty hair.

Castiel could have fallen asleep right then, content in his post-orgasmic bliss, but he realized a problem remained. Dean was still hard — Cas could feel it against his back, reminding him of his own selfishness. Castiel had never been known to be rude, and he didn't want to change his reputation now.

Slowly, he turned toward Dean, kissing the corner of his mouth then finding his way in past the seam of his lips. He tentatively slid his hand under Dean's shirt to trace the toned muscles before sliding down to hook his trembling fingers into Dean's waistband. His hand was pulled away.

"Leave it, Cas," Dean said as he untangled their limbs. He fetched clean clothing from the shelf and helped Castiel get dressed.

Castiel was dumbfounded. What was supposed to be consensual sex had turned into a one-sided jerk off session. In a way he was relieved since he wasn't sure he was ready for full man-on-man sex, but he had believed — had _trusted_ — that Dean wanted him too. That was now crumbling to pieces.

Dean positioned them until they were spooning each other with Dean hugging him from behind. "Goodnight, Cas," he said as he kissed the back of Cas' head. Castiel blinked into the darkness. He had wanted to cuddle, to feel warm and protected; but now, all he felt was empty and cold.

~:~:~


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter summary:** Sam gives Dean a visit, and with him come a few things.

**A/N:** This chapter is beta read by **alittlebitwicked**. Thanks, girl. And thank you to all of you who left your reviews for the last chapter!

~:~:~

Dean opened his eyes, looking at the man below him. Cas was squirming, but it was not because he was having some troubled dreams. Maybe it was the morning chill. Dean pulled the blanket up, pulled Cas in closer and watched as he wiggled into him, then relaxed; his breath evened out in a peaceful sleep.

It was deep dark outside, but, judging from the weather, it wouldn't be long before first light crept up across the air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas' tousled hair, breathing in the smell of sweat and stale prison shampoo. It was not an attractive scent, to be honest, but Dean was fond of it nonetheless – for it was a scent of security, of knowing Cas was safe in his arms.

The last three nights in solitary were torture. Even though Dean had received word that Cas was safe, that everyone kept their distance and tight guards had been set around him, Dean couldn't put his mind to rest. At night, he would think of their first kiss, and how it could mean a hundred different things, which ninety-nine of them basically meant Cas did not share the same feelings he did. But most of all, he wondered how Cas was coping with the trauma.

Cas shuffled and turned away to lie on his back. Faintest light of dawn began swamping in and Dean propped up on his elbow to get a better look on his cherub's face – with cherub being _not_ the physical aspect of it. With always tense and worn-out complexion, Cas looked older than his age, whatever his age might be. Wrinkles and frowns that adorned his slightly droopy eyes and lack of smiles made him look perpetually sad. Cas might have lost a few pounds since he got here, if his sharp cheek bones and cleft chin hidden away behind bristling stubble was any indication.

As the sky got brighter, Dean noticed along the exposed skin above the neckline of Cas' clothes were dark bruises. He remembered he saw more of those on Cas' wrists, stomach and down at the ankles. Dean felt his chest constrict even before he could imagine what Cas had gone through to get those bruises.

Castiel startled at the blaring sound of the morning alarm. Dean placed a hand on his chest to steady him, but once Cas saw him, he promptly backed away. Dean's heart sank but he managed to put on a tight smile. What was more painful, however, was that Cas took a quick glance at his wrists as if to check for new bruises. Soon he realised what had really happened and attacked Dean with a hug.

Gulping down the lump in his chest, Dean said, "Morning, sunshine," trying to sound as cheery as possible. Kissing the top of Cas' hair, he tightened the embrace.

Cas pulled back and flashed a smile: a genuine, beaming smile that went up to his cheeks, eyes and more, and it blew all Dean's troubled feelings away.

"Thank you, Dean," he said before attacking Dean again, this time with a clash of lips and teeth. Dean ran his fingers through those dishevelled morning hair, ready to deepen the kiss, but, hearing people's voices and movements, he had to pull away from the clingy angel.

"I'd better get going," he said.

Cas nodded, fervent giddiness evident in his eyes.

Dean stopped at the metal gates of their cell, looking back at Castiel who was curling under the covers and returning his gaze with a lovely small smile. Dean gripped the metal bar tighter, feeling its cold surface and rigidity resisting the grip against his palm. How Dean would love to spend more time cuddle that little ball of blanket. How Dean wished they didn't live in a schedule so they could kiss as long as they wanted, or even share some morning sexy times.

Hearing footsteps approached, Dean quickly tore himself away and disappeared.

~:~:~

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean greeted his Sasquatch of a brother with a big grin, opening his arms for a hug as he got nearer. Sam returned the hug with a few pats to Dean's back.

Removing himself from Dean's hold, Sam revealed who he had hidden behind his back.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Dean snarled.

Gabriel just snorted. He was sitting cross-legged and cross-armed on a chair next to the table Sam was obviously occupying. "I'm here to see your brother, Dean."

"And why the hell are you here to see my brother?" Dean bit. He tried to move closer to the irksome man, but Sam held him by the arm.

"I need his help with something," Gabriel replied nonchalantly.

"And what the fuck would you need his help with?" Dean did his best to tower above the short guy. They were usually in good terms with each other, but Dean found himself getting impatient every time Gabriel was somewhere near his brother.

Gabriel just clicked his tongue. Standing up, he taunted Dean in the face. "Don't you know, Deano," he said with a pat on Dean's cheek. Dean would have knocked some teeth off that smug face if Sam didn't hold him back. "Sharing is sexy."

Dean hurled his fist but Sam grabbed it tight.

"Gabe, just leave, please," Sam said wearily.

"Gabe?" Dean turned to scorn Sam after the irritating shorty went out of sight. "Since when have you two been on a nickname basis?"

"Dean, you're being ridiculous," Sam glared. "He's a friend, you know that."

"Yeah, a pervert friend who tried to get into your pants," Dean huffed. It was obvious what type of men Gabriel favoured. It was unnerving that the type exactly matched his brother's. "Did you know he gave us free porn the other day?" Dean feigned a gag.

"I know," Sam returned with an awkward gulp. Dean gaped. How could Sammy know that shit? "He told me. He also told me of your free little porno as well."

Dean felt his face burn. He was so going to kill that big-mouth bastard!

"How are you holding up?" Sam changed the subject.

"I'm doing okay," Dean replied, softening up at the genuine concern in Sam's voice. "So, what've you got?"

Sam opened the few files that looked like police reports on the table. "Meet Castiel Milton," Sam said, turning a full-face photo of Cas Dean's way. "35-year-old primary school teacher. Resident of Sacramento, California. Divorced. Parents Mark and Alena Milton, murdered three years ago. One younger sister, Anna Milton. Clean record. Never busted once until he murdered two men three states away."

But Dean could hardly concentrate. He wanted to give a thank you kiss to whoever chose Cas photo for the file. His face was bright with crisp jawlines and kissable cleft chin dusted with contrasting dark fuzz. His eyes were heavenly blue and his hair a mess that begged to be ruffled. He had no tense creases or sorry droop that he sported these days. Dean idly wondered if he could keep the photo.

Dean was jabbed back to reality by Sam poking a finger at the corner of his lips. "Don't drool on my photo," he teased.

"Bitch," Dean snorted, tossing the photo back to Sam.

Sam caught the sliding photo with one hand. "Jerk," he came back.

"So, uh," Dean continued, waving one finger. "Anything on Anna?"

"Yes," Sam replied with a sigh, handing Dean a photo of a red-haired girl. "Anna Milton. 29. Single. She owns a small restaurant in Sacramento. The Milton's siblings were born and raised in Chino, California. They moved to the capital after Anna dropped out of a med school, where they ran the restaurant together until Castiel got married in 2007. He then went into teaching and never returned to work at the restaurant even after the divorce."

Dean nodded. He wondered if Sam knew if Cas was seeing anyone at the moment, but he dared not ask.

"What do you know about the murder?"

Sam took out a file from under the pile then opened it, revealing crime scene photos. Dean sifted through them. They were horrendous scenes, Dean thought, and he had his fair share of all things horrendous. Two men were lying in a dark pool of blood, limbs twisting artfully, internal organs gushing out of their torsos. Dean's face contorted as he felt the disgusting taste of bile rise up in his throat.

"Don't tell me Cas did all of this?" Dean asked, his voice so hoarse and rough Dean felt like it was scraping the inside of his mouth.

"Unfortunately that's what he said," Sam replied with a small sigh. He could tell Dean didn't take it too well. "Found a strand of hair on one of the vic's bodies. DNA matched Castiel's and he confessed to everything. Case closed."

But Dean wasn't listening. The horrible images of the crime scene wouldn't leave the back of his eyes even though he looked at them for less than a minute. Surely his angel couldn't do any of this — a man so naïve he made Ken doll a male stripper. He believed Cas did not do it. There was no fucking way—

"Dean, you okay?" Sam cut Dean's train of thoughts.

Dean cleared his throat to hide the awkwardness of getting caught drifting away. "Yeah, uh, who are these guys?" he asked.

"Darryl Halligan and Gary Navarra. Both just moved here last year. Darryl was a gardener and Gary a paramedic. No connection to the Milton's whatsoever. According to his statement, Castiel said he met these two at a bar, followed them home and killed them."

Dean kneaded his temples. "Does any of this make any sense to you?" He asked with narrowed eyes. Sam shook his head slightly in response. "He drove three states away from his comfort zone just to follow some random guys home and kill them?"

Seeing Dean fidgeting nervously, Sam said what he hoped would be reassuring. "I'll keep looking into it, okay?"

But Dean's mind was racing. He was struggling to draw logic out of illogical dots. "You said his parents were murdered?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "Did the police find any connection?"

"I don't think the police did anything much after he confessed, Dean," Sam said. "They got the evidence, and then he confessed. It was pretty open and closed. As far as the police were concerned there was nothing left to investigate."

_Stupid police_, Dean scoffed. There were good reasons why he never liked them. "You look into that too," he ordered his little brother. "And go visit Anna. She might be able to give us something."

Dean was nervous. There was so much work to do. He wished he were outside so he could help Sam.

"Dean," Sam blurted. "Are we assuming Castiel is _not_ guilty here?"

"We are not assuming," Dean said, slightly irritated. He _knew_ Cas was not guilty. He couldn't tell why. He had been with more than enough scumbags to be able to rate them in different scales just by a look or a single interaction, and Cas fell into the minus zero zones. But that was not why he believed Castiel wasn't guilty. There was _something_ — the same force that drawn him to Cas — that told him Cas could not be behind these murders. And Dean felt like he grew a vagina just at the thought of it. "We are going to prove that Cas is not guilty."

Sam just stared at him. After a while, he softened up. "Okay," he said. Dean was grateful, even though deep down he knew Sam agreed only to appease him. "I'll get Jo to help."

Dean overtly cringed at the name so that Sam knew he was not too thrilled with the idea. But this was for Cas, and he would swallow his dick down for him. "Yeah, you do that," he finally said.

"Dean," Sam called again, looking up from under his fringe. Dean knew it meant something very serious was coming his way. "Is he a liability to you?"

"What? No!" Dean winced suddenly.

"We didn't want to get you a cellmate, but you know how prison population is getting more and more crowded. It's inevitable. So we chose the one who seemed to be the most docile for you, but if he's causing you any trouble—"

"No!" Dean cut him off.

"But he just landed you in lockdown!" Sam wouldn't back down.

"I said no!" Dean retorted more harshly. Sam pursed his lips. "You do what I said. Nothing else. Got it?"

If Sam got it, he didn't show. Instead he gave Dean his infamous bitch face, but that was really all Dean needed.

"Where's my pie?" Dean diverted Sam's attention.

Sam gave another bitch face before turning to fetch it out of his messenger bag. He placed a box of a pie on the table. Dean shot a look at a prison guard nearby, who happened to find the far side of the room interesting all of a sudden. He shoved the box under his shirt and got up.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, giving his brother a loose hug for fear the pie would be crushed.

"Yeah, Dean," Sam returned. "See you in a few days."

"You be good," Dean kept his gaze at his little brother. Cheesy as it was, he found the most difficult time in prison was actually the time he had to say goodbye to his brother after each visit.

"You too," Sam said, tugging both his hands in his pants pockets, watching as Dean walked away. Then he realised he missed something.

"Dean, wait." Sam ran up to Dean, pulling him closer by the arm. He kept his voice low. "Bobby sends his love," Sam started with something sweeter first. "And Ellen said her offer still stands."

As Sam had expected, Dean tensed at the mention of it. He always did, every time. But then he thought of that little ball of blanket he saw on the lower bed this morning, and his tension died away.

"I'll think about it," he said before turning to walk away.

Sam actually gaped, then beamed at him. At least Dean got the two people he cared about most to genuinely smile today and the best apple pie in the state tucked under his shirt. If only good days such as this came more often.

~:~:~

Once Dean stepped out of the visiting room, he saw Gabriel was there waiting for him. Dean stopped, and the prison guard who escorted him stopped a few steps away.

"Got a present for you," Gabriel said, rising up from the wall he was leaning on and handing Dean a book. Dean took it and smirked. 'The Ultimate Guide to Muscle Car Restoration' spread across the cover. So this was what Gabe got from his brother for him.

"Thanks," he said with a wide grin.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot," he scorned. Then he reached out to the book, peeling off the dust jacket, revealing a book titled 'A Guide for Partners of a Rape Survivor' inside.

"The hell?" Dean muttered with a frown.

"Like I would actually get you a book for you to enjoy," Gabriel explained with exasperation. "I only put that on the cover because I know this way Castiel won't pry on it."

But Dean hardly listened as he flipped open to the table of contents page. It listed topics on rape trauma syndrome, coping after sexual assaults, tips on what to say and not to say, how to handle difficult situations, etc. Dean was lost for words. He didn't realise there would be so many effects. Cas seemed okay for the most part.

"Look," Gabriel said in a serious voice. "I love that kid like I do my own brother. You treat him right, or I swear to God I'll slit your throat," he threatened. Dean gulped. He was not usually intimidated by the guy, but Dean didn't think he'd try to get him angry. "I may not succeed, but at least I'll die trying."

Dean nodded. Once Gabriel was satisfied, he walked away, leaving Dean to stand speechless in the corridor clutching the thick book.

~:~:~

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted the dark-haired man who was sitting reading on his bed, relieved to see it wasn't the book Gabriel gave him this morning. It was past dinnertime and the first time they had seen each other since they parted this morning.

"Hello, Dean," Cas quickly closed the book and jumped to his feet. Dean thought the guy would scoot over to him, but he ended up shuffling on his feet.

"Take it you like reading," Dean said, nodding to the book abandoned on the bed. Dean felt Cas' eyes following him as he walked over to throw the towel on his bunk.

"I'm sorry I took your book without permission," Cas mumbled and fidgeted nervously.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean said, turning to the guy next to him with an assuring grin. "You can take any book from the shelf. I won't mind." Then he told himself to find somewhere else to keep that 'Muscle Car' book.

"Thank you," Cas said softly, keeping his gaze down at the floor.

Dean inwardly sighed. Cas still seemed afraid of him and honestly that was the last thing Dean wanted.

"Can you recite a poem?" Dean asked.

"What?" Cas snapped his head up at the sudden question.

"I said, can you recite a poem?" Dean repeated with a smile, one arm draping over the top bunk while the other resting on his hip in what he hoped was a seemingly comfortable posture.

"A few," Cas replied vacantly, but he kept piercing his gaze into Dean as if he could figure out why Dean asked just by looking deep enough into his eyes.

"Show me," Dean said firmly, a hint of dare in his voice.

Cas opened his mouth as if he was going to ask why, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he set off with a line, "She walks in beauty—"

"Not that one," Dean cut him off rudely, and Cas' voice faltered. His gaze fell to the floor once again.

"Oh, no, no," Dean stuttered and mentally bit his tongue that slipped off faster than his wit. How could he tell Cas that he was being a dick because he didn't want to hear him ponder over some beautiful woman?

"You know it's not very wise to talk about sexy ladies around here," Dean said cautiously. "Try another one."

Cas just nodded, took a deep breath, before he began again:

"_Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,  
__Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
__While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,"__  
_

"Lower your voice," Dean interrupted.

"What?" Cas stumbled with a baffling look on his face.

"Continue, but in softer voice," Dean instructed.

Cas frowned, but he lowered his voice, and continued,

"_As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  
__"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;  
__Only this, and nothing more.'"__  
_

"Lower," Dean said again, but this time Cas did not stop. He just continued in an even lower voice.

"_Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,  
__And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."__  
_

"Yeah, keep your voice at this level," Dean said, and Cas only returned with a tilt of his head, while kept reciting his narrative poem.

"_Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow  
__From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.  
__For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,  
__Nameless here forevermore."__  
_

Cas' slowly came to a stop over the last couple of lines. His voice was soft and sad as if it hurt him just to think of what was happening in the poem.

So Dean didn't push him further. Instead, he said, "Remember to keep your voice at this level when we talk, okay?" Last thing Dean needed was for others to pry into their private business, and he fully intended to get more and more private with Castiel.

"But this is barely a whisper," Cas said tensely.

Dean grinned. He bent over and purred into Cas' ear, "Then you'll have to lean in a little closer."

Cas' ear went red, and Dean couldn't suppress his laughter.

After his laughter died down, Dean climbed up his bed to retrieve a set of handcuffs from the back of his shelf, but when Dean moved back down, Cas had retreated to the far end of the bed, his face as pale as a ghost.

"Whoa." Dean lifted his hands up, the handcuffs hanging loosely in one of them. "Cas, I'm not going to hurt you."

But Cas was still shaking. He fixed his gaze at the handcuffs in Dean's hand.

"I'm going to put them down, okay?" Dean said, slowly placing the handcuffs down on the lower bed, closer to the end, closer to Cas.

Once the handcuffs were on the bed and Dean's hands were up in the air again, Cas shifted his eyes to Dean. His voice was low and breaking when he asked, "What is it for?"

"I'm going to teach you how to pick the lock," Dean replied. "It's a survival technique, Cas. You need to know how; it could be a matter of life and death."

Cas loosened his grip on the bed pole a little, but still not moving.

"Look, I have a key here," Dean said, showing a tiny key in his palm. "You keep it."

He offered the key to Cas, but Cas did not move until Dean prompted one more time. He quickly grabbed the key away from Dean's hand, then retreated back to the end of the bed.

"You try it," Dean said, nodding towards the handcuffs on the bed. He remained still, hands holding up in plain sight to show Cas that he had no intention of hurting him.

Cas hesitated for a long moment. Then he grabbed the handcuffs and stood as far from Dean as he could. He fumbled with it and after a few tries could get a cuff to spring free from its lock. He looked back at Dean who smiled back at him.

"Are we good?" Dean asked.

Cas reluctantly nodded. He handed the cuffs back to Dean, but kept the key securely with himself.

Dean took them and sat down on the lower bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"Come sit here," Dean beckoned Cas over.

Cas shuffled for a brief moment more, then he came sitting next to Dean. He was surprised at how close Cas pressed into his side: their thighs touching, their arms overlapping each other.

If anything, Dean was pleased rather than awkward at the close proximity.

Dean took out a paperclip and stretched it in front of him for Cas to see. "Okay, you have a paperclip here," he instructed. "Stick it into the lock, bend it this way until you got a hook like this." Dean showed him the clip that now turned into a small L-shape metal pin. "Now put it in the other way and tweak it." One of the cuffs clicked open. "See? It's easy," Dean said with a triumphant grin. "You want to try?"

He offered the cuffs and a new paperclip to Cas, who took them with shaky hands. He followed what Dean did, and after a few clumsy tries, the cuffs slid off from its lock. A big smile crept up on his face as he handed the cuffs back to Dean.

"Good," Dean said proudly. They still needed to practice picking it while the cuffs was actually _on_ them, not in the air, but Dean guessed that was for another time.

"You want to keep these?" He asked, thinking Cas might feel more comfortable if he had control over them, but Cas shook his head.

"Okay," Dean said. "You can keep the key. Just don't lose it, okay?"

"Okay," Cas replied softly.

"I've got something for you." Dean tapped on Cas' knee before getting up to put the handcuffs away. He was glad Cas didn't ask how he got them in the first place. It was purely for Cas' educational purpose, he wouldn't want to be in a possession of something that could get him and its owner in trouble.

Brushing the thoughts away, Dean grinned upon seeing the box of apple pie he had kept since his meeting with Sam this morning. He took the box and sat back down next to his cellmate, slowly opening the box in front of them as if he was about to open a treasure chest. Dean was thrilled upon seeing the golden top of the pie, even if it was aligned to one side due to the position Dean carried it back to their cell. He was even more thrilled when he saw the look on Cas' face. His eyes went wide and Dean swore Cas was gulping.

"The best apple pie in the state," Dean whispered into Cas' ear.

Cas turned his gaze to Dean. He was barely able to hide his excitement. "How did you get this?" he asked.

"My brother visited me today," Dean gave an awkward reply that thankfully Cas did not notice. He left out the part that it was actually a violation of the rules to bring outside food into their cell, and for that Dean was glad Sam didn't ask why he wanted a whole pie instead of a piece he could finish up in the visiting room as usual.

"Come on. Let's try it." Dean handed a plastic fork to Cas. "No plate or knife so let's forget table manners, shall we?"

Cas just grinned a genuinely happy grin at him and Dean felt like his appetite had already been sated even without the help of his favourite dessert.

Dean ducked his head away to hide the blush he knew he had on his cheeks. He stuck his fork into the pie, scooped up a mouthful, and shoved the pie into his mouth. He couldn't help the strangled moan that escaped his lips the moment the fruity delight touched his tongue. Castiel's gaze followed his movements in awe, and Dean almost choked on his pie because at this moment Cas looked more like he wanted to savour Dean than the dessert itself.

Coughing, Dean gestured towards the pie and Cas tore his gaze away shyly. He put the fork into the pie tentatively, before taking up a small bite and he fucking _moaned_ when the pie got into his mouth. Dean held his breath. Now he knew why Cas looked like he was going to eat Dean alive, because the pie maybe scrumptious, but Cas with pie was sure as hell a hundred times more.

It took all of Dean's effort to shift his focus back to the pie. He savaged the tempting creation like his life depended on it. Castiel took his bites more steadily, not as harsh as Dean did, but also did not stop.

"You know what goes best with apple pie?" Dean asked casually, whirling the plastic fork in the air.

"First flush Darjeeling—"

"Vanilla ice cream—" They both said at the same time.

"The hell is first flush… whatever?" Dean cried.

The corner of Cas' mouth just curled up into a pretty smile. "Darjeeling is a kind of tea, Dean," Castiel said fondly, in the hushed tone Dean had trained him to. "First flush means it is plucked in the first growing season of the year, usually following spring rains."

Dean hummed and nodded approvingly. "Sounds nice."

"It _is_ nice." Cas flashed another smile.

The sight was endearing. It compelled Dean to think maybe all he ever needed was a smile on Cas' face. He looked at Cas who continued eating obliviously and Dean felt everything he ever did and gave up was all worth it — his struggles, his fights, his sacrifices.

"You should try to eat more," Dean said softly, lifting a hand to gently stroke Cas' dark hair. "I know the food here is unbearable most of the time, but I can't sneak in burgers everyday if I wanted to."

Talking about burgers, Dean could think of three different joints within a thirty-mile radius of where they were that served really, really good burgers. How nice would it be if he could take Cas there. He was very sure Cas would love it, even though he did not know whether Cas liked burger or not.

Cas put his fork down. He turned to look Dean directly in the eyes. "Thank you, Dean," he said. "I'll try to eat more."

Dean stroked Cas' hair a few times more with a smile. He knew Cas wasn't lying. He was easier to read than a book for first-graders.

"You full?" Dean asked. There was still quite a large portion left in the box.

Cas nodded.

"We can finish this tomorrow," Dean closed the lid and got up to put the pie away. Just then the main light went out, signalling time for bed. When Dean got his feet back to the ground and turned back, Cas was plastered to him. Lips crashed and Dean had only a brief moment to slide his arms around Cas' waist before he was pressed back to the ladder.

Cas licked at his lips and Dean was more than willing to give him the access he needed. Cas' tongue slid in instantly and Dean thought he might overdose on sugar just by the sweetness of it. He could taste apples and butter and cinnamon in his mouth. Judging by the moans in Cas' throat, Dean assumed he could taste the same thing on him too. They might have just found a more mouth-watering way to finish their leftover pie.

Cas pulled away to catch his breath. His face was flushed hot; his eyes clouded in a daze. "Tell your brother," he rasped, "I said thank you."

"Sure thing," Dean replied with a smirk.

Castiel pushed himself off Dean. He reached up to grab the blanket from Dean's bed and threw it on his bed. Dean grabbed the pillow and both of them settled on the lower bed as though it was a very normal thing for them to do.

They lied facing each other when Cas asked, "Does your brother come here often?"

Dean chuckled. "When he can."

"What does he do?"

"Sam's a lawyer," was Dean's prepared answer. He hated having to lie to Cas, but he couldn't give out what they actually did, at least not while they were in this place. "What about you? You got any siblings too?"

"Yes, I have a younger sister, Anna."

Dean thought he sounded sad when he replied. Sam didn't say Anna was dead, so she must still be alive, but why did Cas have nightmares about his sister? Dean wondered if he could ask what Cas dreamed of, or whether he could mention the dream at all.

"Is she coming to visit you?" Dean pretended to ask innocently.

Cas ducked his head down, picking at the hem of Dean's shirt. "We're not close," he said softly but also firmly. Dean took the hint that meant Cas no longer wished to discuss this topic.

"We should get some sleep," Dean suggested and shifted so that Cas could snuggle into him. They lied there comfortably together. It was peaceful. However, it was quickly interrupted by the feeling of Cas trembling in his arms.

"Cas, you alright?" Dean asked, worried when he looked at the man below him through dim light.

The smaller man shook his head. He clutched Dean's top tightly and wiggled closer into him. His voice was broken when he looked up and begged, "Dean, please."

But Dean could hear the unspoken plea. _Dean, please, help me._ It was as clear as his own voice in his head. Cas was breaking, and he needed his help, and Dean was going to help him any way he could.

"Okay," Dean said, slowly climbing on top of Cas. For some reason, Cas seemed to find it comforting when he could feel Dean's weight on him. Cas pulled Dean down for a hurried kiss, his hips bucking up in frantic lunges.

"Cas, Cas, stop."

Because as much as Dean wanted it, he had to make sure he was really helping Cas, and not hurting him.

Cas slowly quieted down, his eyes blowing with mixed emotions when he looked at Dean — really, really looked at Dean — with expectations and trust that Dean knew he did not deserve.

"Listen to me," Dean started. "We need to set some rules if we are doing this, okay?"

Cas nodded. Dean could feel Cas' chest heave eagerly beneath him.

"You have to take the lead," Dean blurted. It felt weird coming from him, but this was for Cas. He repeated to himself. _This_ was for Cas. "You tell me what you want and I'll do it. You tell me what you don't want and I'll stop. No question asked. Deal?"

He felt Cas trying to shift beneath him, but he couldn't move much under his weight. So instead, Cas tilted his head and frowned. After a long while, he slowly nodded.

"Say it." Dean had to make sure that he and Cas were on the same page.

"I'll tell you what I want," Cas drew the words out carefully, blue eyes searching his for reassurance. "I'll tell you what I don't want."

"Good," Dean said firmly. "Now kiss me."

At the invitation, Cas instantly crashed his lips with Dean's. He gripped Dean's top tight and pulled him flushed against himself. Dean glided his hips lower, feeling Cas' growing erection against him.

It was a good thing (out of wrong means, Dean chided himself) that he knew what Cas liked, that he knew how to make Cas come undone underneath him.

But still, he needed to ask.

"What do you want, angel?" Dean hummed under Cas' jawbone where his neck met, the angle Dean knew, if he sucked, would send Cas' body shuddering. But instead of a shudder, Cas stiffened. Dean immediately stopped.

He pulled back slightly before asking, "You alright?"

Cas didn't shake his head, but he was restless. He kept fidgeting with Dean's top, eyes glancing from side to side. It took a moment before Cas finally said, "Please don't call me angel."

Dean was taken aback. _But you are my angel_, he wanted to argue. His days had been dull and boring, but since Castiel appeared in his life, they began to shine. Loneliness and pain were no longer something intolerable. All the pretentious nonsense Dean used to be so proud of became pointless. Cas had shown him a new meaning to life — to living.

But _this_ was for Cas, Dean repeated to himself, and it was a good thing Cas could talk about what he did not want.

"Okay," Dean said. "How about," leaning himself down, he purred into Cas' ear, "baby?"

Cas shrieked. There was no other word to describe that high-pitched laughter that slipped through Cas' lips. Cas was grinning, rubbing his ear on his shoulder. "That tickles," he said, blushing.

Dean couldn't help the grin on his face. Cas' smile was contagious. But that was new. He never knew Cas was ticklish at any point.

"What tickles?" Dean purred into Cas' ear again, "this?" But Cas just gasped in response. "Or," Dean trailed, "honey?"

Cas shrieked again.

Dean grinned wickedly. "Sugar? Sweetheart?" He bombarded Cas' ear with sweet, endearing terms. Cas wouldn't stop laughing and brushing his ear. "Darling? Pumpkin?" Dean was getting more amused. If anything, his heart fluttered at how happy Cas was, at how he could wipe the weariness off Cas' face. "Love?"

Dean was suddenly pushed on his back and Cas straddled his waist. He leaned down to kiss Dean hungrily. It was full of passion, of possessiveness, of desperate yearning.

Cas pulled away and took off his own shirt. He sat back, staring at his hands that were placed on Dean's chest. It was as if he was looking, but didn't see.

"Cas?" Dean placed a hand on Cas' arm with caution. Above him, Cas' pale chest was flushed with heat.

Castiel curled his fingers into Dean's top and pulled. Dean pushed up on his elbows, but Cas pulled again, backing a little away so Dean could sit up. He nudged Dean to the side and Dean moved so his back leaned against the wall.

Straddling him, Cas slowly sat back down until Dean could feel Cas' erection against his. Then he _swung_, a slow, slight back-and-forth movement of his hips that sent Dean's whole body shuddering. Dean placed his arms on the curve of Cas' back that was now arching like a graceful feline. Cas' wiry arms shook as he gingerly dragged his hard cock over Dean's – up and down – whimpering little mewing noises as he did so. Dean held his breath. It was the only way Dean could stop himself from bucking his hips into Cas, or pressing Cas' hips onto him.

Then Cas stopped. He simply slotted himself onto Dean's body, wrapped his arms around him, and placed his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean let out the breath he had been holding and leaned his head back on the wall. Tonight was going to be a very long night.

"I…" Cas spoke. His voice was the hoarsest of hoarse, as if his vocal cord hadn't been used in a very long time. He mouthed something again; Dean could feel his lips moving against his collarbone, but it was inaudible.

"I'm not a whore," Cas whispered after a long while.

Dean grimaced and felt like he wanted to bang his head on the wall, hard, several times. He recalled having called Cas that on a few occasions, but it was all done on the spur of the moment – a very, very bad one.

"Of course you're not," Dean said remorsefully. "I'm sorry I said that to you. I didn't mean it, and I won't say it again," Dean reassured him.

Cas pushed himself up so he was now again sitting in front of Dean. The neon light glistened the trail of tears on Cas' cheek and Dean wiped them away with his thumb.

If only he could wipe away the damage as well.

"So…" Dean was going to ask if Cas wanted to sleep or continue, but Cas grabbed Dean's hand and quickly shoved it into his pants.

This time it was Dean who gasped.

He curled his fingers around Cas' hard-on, thumb smearing leaking precum. Cas' breath hitched as he lifted his hips up slightly, one hand pressing on Dean's chest for balance. Dean used his free hand to slip Cas' pants down his thigh, revealing his smooth-as-silk ass. Dean sped up his pace and, in response, Cas squirmed prettily, mewing those soft little noises next to his ear. Dean took it his challenge to turn this cute kitten into a wildcat.

But then Cas tore himself away. Dean almost groaned, thinking Cas wanted to stop, again. Instead, Cas removed his pants all the way off his feet. He lied down on the bed, pulling Dean down with him. Turning his back to Dean, Cas pulled one of Dean's hand over his hip to his cock. Dean immediately continued where he left off, but Cas reached his arm to pull Dean leg over him, so now half of Dean's body was draping over his. A position Dean was most grateful as his neglected erection was pressed tight on the small of Cas' back.

Cas tried to turn his face backwards. "Kiss me," he said softly. Dean propped up on his elbow and leaned over to give Cas a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, pressing more of his weight on him. Cas reached out his arm to clutch behind Dean's neck, pulling him in and devouring his tongue and lips like he had been famished.

Dean increased the pace on his fist and Cas bucked up into it, his hips frantically crushing on Dean's hard cock. He twisted his wrist, eliciting from Cas smutty groans that Dean swallowed down his throat.

Cas let go of Dean's head and turned to clutch tightly at the bed sheet, his breaths becoming erratic and his groans pressing as he fucked into Dean's hand, grinding his ass on Dean's cock with frenzied plunges.

Dean forced his weight on Cas again, squashing his erection on the back of Cas' ass because he, too, was desperate to come. Cas chose that moment to go rigid, spilling on Dean's hand and onto the mattress.

Resting his head on Cas' shoulder, Dean helped him emptying his load. Cas still looked bedazzled when Dean flopped back down on the bed, panting hard, breathless from their vigorous activity.

When Dean got up again, Cas had already fallen asleep, curling on his side. He rose to find the clothes that had been tossed God knows where. They might be needed if Cas woke up in the middle of the night because of the chill. Grabbing Cas' clothes and blankets, Dean settled back down, spooning Cas in his arms. His painful erection was still there, but he would take care of that later — or maybe not. He had given Cas a choice and Cas had chosen. It was, honest-to-God, the least of Dean's problems right now. He had an angel to protect — from both waking and sleeping nightmares — and that was all that mattered.

~:~:~

**A/N:** The first poem Cas recited was by Lord Byron. The second poem was The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter summary:** So this is how it goes on for the two of them — or rather the three of them.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. You have the patience of a saint! Special thanks to darkphoenix2345 for simply being awesome and incredibly supportive. Check out her stories if you haven't already!

~:~:~

Castiel put dirty clothes into a washing machine in the laundry room. It was the first time he came back to work after the Uriel incident. He couldn't say he was better, but life needed to go on, and so did his funding account. Nobody hired those who didn't show up at work, and he did not know how to find a new job if he had lost this one.

"Castiel!"

He jumped at the sound of someone calling his name. So far no one but Chuck and Gabriel dared get anywhere near him. Nobody should be calling his name. Castiel turned to see a familiar face smiling, walking towards him.

"Nick," he greeted. He refused to call him Lucifer like everyone did.

"Glad to see you here!" Nick greeted him with a pat on Castiel's arm. Cas tried not to wince visibly from the touch. "How are you doing?"

"Good," was the only reply Cas could give, as he ducked his head away.

"Good," Nick repeated softly. He noticed Castiel was avoiding his gaze. Nick squeezed Cas' arm as a form of encouragement, but it sent Cas' whole body shuddering with goose bumps.

"Look," Nick continued in a softer tone. "I'm sorry about what happened. If I had known Uriel was up to some sickening plans, I'd have helped you."

Castiel should have found comfort in those words. He knew Nick meant him no harm, but at the presence of another man getting too close, all he could think of was _Dean, Dean, Dean_.

"Thank you," Castiel replied politely.

"I have something for you," Nick said, suddenly turning bashful like a teenager. He looked at the ground where he kicked lightly with one foot. "Think it might cheer you up."

Castiel did not say anything. He just waited for him to continue.

"I remember you said you like tea," Nick said, handing a small sachet to Castiel. It was a bag of Twining's Darjeeling Tea. "This is the best I could find."

Castiel immediately thought of Dean's apple pie and beamed. "This is perfect," he said with a wide smile. Well, it was not perfect _per se_, but Castiel was well aware of where they were, and this was much better than he could have asked for. "Thank you very much," he said.

Nick returned his smile with a wider grin. "Well, I'm glad you like it, kiddo," he said while ruffling Cas' hair. Castiel tried to duck his head away from the touch, but he couldn't go too far. It wasn't the first time Nick got physically friendly but it made him uncomfortable now. So Castiel tried to think of Dean, and of the next time he brought another pie, even though he doubted there would be a next time. Castiel would make them some tea and prove to Dean how wrong he was to think apple pie goes well only with vanilla ice cream.

"Oh, and if you need hot water," Nick continued speaking in a chirpy tone, "go ask for Gordon in the kitchen, okay? He is expecting you."

Castiel nodded appreciatively. Nick had gone out of his way in having hot water prepared for him. The secret to making good tea required boiling water, not the kind you got from a hot water dispenser.

"And if you need more of those," Nick said, nodding his head to the tea bag in Cas' hand. "Just come get them at my cell, okay? Anytime"

Nick reached out to touch Castiel again. Cas stiffened. He didn't want to be rude to a friend who had been nothing but nice to him, but he was not ready to be touched – any kind of touch – by any other man.

Nick placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Castiel held his breath until Nick said his goodbye and left.

_Dean._ He needed to see Dean right now.

~:~:~

It wasn't until after dinner time that he got to see Dean in private. Dean leisurely walked past the open metal gate and Castiel immediately dashed to him until Dean's back hit the wall. He crudely rubbed his left arm where Lucifer had touched against Dean's chest. Dean just wrapped his arms loosely around Cas' waist, amused, unaware of what had been going on.

"Hey, baby," he said smugly, "miss me already?"

"Yes," Castiel could only murmur while he tried to rub his shoulder against Dean's chest too, which turned out to be a little trickier than he had thought. Then he pulled one of Dean's hands to ruffle the top of his head. There, all traces of Lucifer were gone.

"You alright, ang—, babe?" Dean asked. It would sometimes slip his tongue, the word Castiel asked Dean not to say, but he would quickly brush it away, every time. "Why are you clingy all of a sudden?"

"I'm always clingy," was a cheap reply, Castiel knew, but it was all he could offer Dean right now.

"That's true," Dean said, smiling, wrapping his arms a little tighter now that Castiel stopped moving. "But it's not lights out yet."

"Can't wait"

At least that much was true. Castiel leaned in to give Dean a brief kiss before pulling away. He smiled seeing Dean a little flustered. Dean was right. It was not even passed shower time yet. Anyone could walk past their cell at any moment.

"You, uh," Dean stammered. "You've been working?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, tilting his head with a frown. "How did you know?"

Dean smiled tightly. "Well, you smell like you fell into a washing machine."

Castiel threw his head back in a merry laugh. He removed himself from Dean to get ready to go shower.

"You know, Cas," Dean said, pushing himself off the wall and following Cas' steps, "I can get you to work in the library. You'll love it there, and it's less tiring."

That sounded tempting, Castiel had to admit. His typical duties included throwing dirty clothes into towering washing machines, removing them when done and move them to even bigger tumble dryers. Folding was unavoidable, though ironing was kept to the minimum. The work was exhausting, but it was the smell of detergent and dirty clothes that was unbearable.

But he could not depend on Dean forever. He was determined to be able to take care of himself. _This_ was a perfect example. "Thanks, Dean," Castiel replied, "but I'll be fine."

Dean sighed heavily and ran his hand through his spiky hair. "Look, Cas, I'll be honest with you," Dean said, his tone going solemn. "My, uh, _influence_ is not so high in the laundry room. I can't be at peace while you're there."

Smiling, Castiel moved closer and cupped Dean's cheek with one hand. He was flattered at how much Dean cared for him. Dean nuzzled into his hand. "I'll be fine, Dean," he said, assuring. "After all, you put Andy in there with me, didn't you?"

Dean snorted, rubbing his thumb at the back of Cas' hand. "That's kind of the point. There's no one but him."

Castiel leaned in to kiss Dean. He was overwhelmed by how far Dean would go to protect him. He knew there were a few other people besides Andy — not enough for safety, but enough for him not to feel alone. Besides, he had Nick in there, he would be fine.

Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against Dean's, who was breathing hard. "I'm taking a shower," Castiel said in a low voice. "Care to join me?"

Dean threw his head back and groaned. Castiel could only snicker when Dean pushed him away playfully. "Get outta here, you tease."

Castiel couldn't erase the smile on his face as he stopped at the metal gate and turned back to look at Dean, who stood gazing at him with arms crossed; a corner of his lips curled into a suppressed smile. If they weren't inside a prison, this would be Castiel's cue to say 'I love you'. He almost did, the other night, after Dean pampered him with terms of endearment. But his voice decided to walk out on him at that very moment, allowing him to say only the next best thing — that he wasn't a whore. There was no other man he would bare his body and soul to but Dean.

~:~:~

So that was how it went on for the two of them. Day after day they would keep their distance in public. Dean's eyes were still on him, but only to the level that Cas felt safe but not suffocating. Castiel progressed noticeably in his self-defense classes with Gabriel, while Dean helped him train in their cell whenever they found themselves free from work at the same time slot. Night after night, the top bed neglected, as Dean and Cas squeezed themselves onto one small bed.

It was under the cloak of darkness and streaks of artificial light that they shared their life stories outside the cage. Cas would tell Dean of his job and of his ex-wife, Daphne, whom he married more out of obligation than love and of their marriage that lasted a little over a year. He kept tales of his family to a minimum.

Dean, on the other hand, bragged about his family, especially of his little brother whom Dean lovingly called Sammy. He also bragged a lot about Baby, whom Castiel learned with a raised eyebrow, was actually Dean's car, some kind of classic. Cas could only imagine what it looked like and doubted his imagination would be any accurate. Dean hardly talked about his work or his past relationships; other than that they were a series of 'hot fucks and leave before breakfast'.

They would have sex (Castiel refused to call it otherwise). This basically meant Dean brought Cas to orgasm and nothing more. After a while, Castiel was comfortable enough to let Dean blow him. As much as he loved it, his preferred sexual act was frottage, which, if Cas tried hard enough, he could get Dean to come with him, clothes on and all. Good news was, as long as Dean was in bed with him, he didn't have to face those nightmares again. With Dean holding him in his arms, prison might have been the best thing that happened to him after all.

Except his life was never that simple.

~:~:~

He longed to touch Dean.

Castiel's fingers itched every time they made love. He had seen that firm chest and that branded tattoo up close once. He still had glimpses of it on scorching hot afternoons when most inmates tossed away their shirts or when he walked past Dean in the shower area. His fingers would tingle when he thought of trailing them on those tanned muscles. His lips went dry whenever he thought of dragging his tongue over those pretty nipples and making Dean squirm the same way Dean did to him. But Dean had made it very clear from the first day; he did not want Cas' touch. It was the only control he had, and he was very much determined to keep it.

But it wasn't easy. Every time he straddled Dean, he wanted nothing but to shred Dean's top and rake his stubble on that skin. Every time he ground onto Dean, all he wanted to do was strip those pants off and take Dean's erection into his mouth. Castiel longed to know what Dean tasted and smelled like, to see how ungraceful Dean would writhe under his touch and how shamelessly Dean would moan under his tongue.

He never had sex with a guy before, but he didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know where they penetrated. What he did not know, however, was how they did it, all the basics. Since he assumed Dean wouldn't tell him any of that, he turned to Gabriel. He could not exactly tell Gabriel what he needed though. No one could know what happened — or did not happen, in this case. It could jeopardize Dean's reputation. So instead, he asked for something to 'spice up' their love life.

Gabriel was more than happy to oblige. A few days later he was handed a gay porn magazine, something Castiel never knew existed until now. If they were in the outside world, his teacher said, he would pass him some exciting clips, but this was the best he could get now.

What he saw in there confirmed that Gabriel had no shame and no taste. It was the most explicit of explicit sexual scenes Castiel had ever seen. (Not that he had seen many of those, but still.) There was nothing desirable about seeing two naked dudes – sometimes more – in positions that would make your grandmother drop dead at the spot, but he knew sex and he knew Dean. And he knew it would be nothing but wonderful.

But Dean wanted none of this, he told himself firmly as he passed the material back to Gabe. Castiel wanted to burn it, actually, but he had no idea where and how to. He dared not leave it in his cell either, lest Dean should find it and be disgusted with him and never want to touch him ever again.

~:~:~

Cas' body broke in a sweat all over. He clutched tight at Dean's top, wondering if he could rip it apart and blame it on circumstances. Dean was pumping him with his fist so hard Castiel thought Dean's calloused hand must have been blistered. But it was either Dean's hand or Dean's lips, and he had bruised both of those more than enough times for him to forgive himself.

What Castiel wanted was to come untouched. Gabriel's handbook said it was possible, apparently if you got fucked hard enough in the ass. He moved in to kiss Dean, distracting him while he slowly removed Dean's hand from his cock and guided it lower to his balls; then lower towards his backside. He pressed Dean's middle finger along the crack of his butt, fumbling to find that wonder hole. It was not as easy as it seemed, and Dean realized what he was trying to do before he could really do it.

Dean pulled away from the kiss with a frown. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I want you, Dean," Cas replied, a little surprised at how needy he sounded. "Please, Dean," he pleaded, adding a more desperate tone to his voice. "I really want it."

Dean still frowned at him, but when Cas pushed Dean's finger again, it started to move without his guidance. Dean found his entrance in no time, kneading it with the pad of his finger. Castiel parted his lips, letting out anticipating puffs. He felt Dean press a little harder and waited for the moment he would be breached, but it never happened.

Dean pulled his hand away.

"Let's not do this, Cas," he said, agitated.

"Please, Dean," Castiel begged, trying to sound as whiny as possible. "I want this."

Dean pursed his lips shut. His brows tied into a deep knot, suggesting he was debating hard in his head. Castiel nuzzled into Dean's neck, brushing his nose over his skin as he _mewed_ his request, "You said you'll do what I want."

He felt Dean suck in his breath, then he was pushed away by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, Cas," Dean said. "I can't do it."

Castiel felt cracks of ice creep up his body as he stared blankly at Dean's face. He had been hot and bothered but now he went stone cold. Dean couldn't do it. Dean never wanted him. Who was he kidding?

"Okay." The word fell out of his lips like a dead leaf falling from a dying tree.

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, trying to give him a hug. Castiel dodged him and sat upright.

"Do you still have the cuff?" Castiel asked dryly.

"What? Why?" Dean frowned. His voice went an octave higher.

"I want you to cuff me to the bed. You can at least do that, right? You've done it before."

There was an apparent shock on Dean's face, but Castiel was too detached to care for it.

"Cas, please," Dean pleaded. "I said I'm sorry."

"I _need_ something, Dean!" Castiel retorted. His voice might have been a little louder than their usual whispers could allow.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Let me just tie you up, okay? Cuff will cut through your skin and I'm not letting that happen."

Cas felt his throat constrict. He didn't understand Dean at all. One minute he didn't want to touch him. A minute later, he wouldn't let him bleed.

Dean returned with a clean pair of cotton pants, tying Castiel up to the head bars. When Dean gently guided him to lie down on the mattress, Castiel was already panting hard. It reminded him of his first few nights here, when Dean had him tied up and abused him. Castiel realized, to his horror, how much everything had changed since then. What used to be non-consensual had turned consensual. Or maybe it was still non-consensual, with the abuser switching from Dean to him, considering the way he had been using Dean to gratify his needs—

"Can I kiss you?"

Dean's tender voice broke Castiel's train of thoughts. He turned to see Dean propped up on one elbow, looking down at him. His expression was soft and he affectionately ran his fingers through Cas' hair.

Castiel closed his eyes, gulping hard because none of this was real. This sweet, unselfish Dean was not real. He felt soft lips gently nibbling his. Castiel breathed in warm air and Dean's own sweaty scent. He wanted to place his hands on those bony cheeks and pull Dean closer. Oh God, he really did.

He sighed blissfully and Dean cupped his cheeks, winding their tongues together. Dean slid on top of Cas once the kiss got more heated. Castiel couldn't move under Dean's weight. Instead he wriggled his limbs wildly as he sucked Dean's tongue; his arms pulled at the knot, wrenching to slip free.

"Dean, move, please." Castiel pulled away harshly, begging because his whole body was on fire, again.

Dean smirked then leaned down to kiss behind his ears, making Cas squirm. "What do you want, dear?" He said teasingly.

"Your mouth," Cas replied at once.

Dean glided down his torso hastily, only stopping to place a quick kiss once on his belly, and then Dean was at it. His tongue pressed on the slit of his swollen head, lapping the salty liquid there. Soon enough Cas' erection was encased in that wet mouth and those stretched lips.

No matter how many nights Dean had done this to him, it was never enough. Castiel writhed violently, pulling at the head bars as Dean sucked, hard, obscene soggy sounds audible amidst his own suppressed moans.

Before Castiel knew it, his wrists had slipped free. He must have unconsciously used the trick learned from Lucifer to unlace them. He was about to grab Dean's sandy hair, when he remembered what happened some nights back.

It was peculiarly similar. Dean had been giving him a heavenly amazing blowjob. Castiel had been so lost with the feelings, he unknowingly locked Dean's head over his cock with all his might as he got closer and closer to his climax; oblivious of how Dean fought to wrench free of his hold. Dean had barely managed to jerk his head away in time, resulting in an unintentional facial. After that night, Castiel discreetly observed, it was always the same — ending with Dean spilling his seed to the ground, so to speak.

Not that Castiel was a pervert who wanted to force his load down an unwilling throat, but it was only deliberately unnatural not to. Even his wife had done it for him on more than one occasion. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head, Castiel cupped Dean's cheeks with both hands, and pulled him off.

He guided Dean up for a light kiss, careful not to bruise those mushy lips. Dean closed his eyes and softly moaned when Castiel parted his mouth and dragged his tongue along the row of Dean's teeth. Then Dean gripped Castiel's wrists and backed away.

"How did you…" Dean's question was lost as he frowned at those unbound hands.

_Shit._

"It slipped," Castiel replied too fast. He should have given himself time to come up with something. He had forgotten that his hands should be tied, but what Dean was doing to him had been too overpowering. He could not restrain himself.

"I never slip," Dean said firmly. He glanced at Cas with a furrowed brow.

Castiel avoided Dean's gaze. It was glaringly obvious Nick and Dean were archenemies in this place. More reason for Castiel not to let Dean know of their encounters. He definitely could not tell Dean from whom he had learned the trick, and most definitely not the _why._

"I don't know," Castiel added guiltily.

Fortunately, Dean softened at that. He let go of Castiel's wrists and rested his forehead on his. Dean placed his hand on the side of Cas' face, tracing his thumb in circular movements on the cheek. Hot breath ghosted over his parted lips, but Dean did not close the gap.

Castiel shifted his hips upwards, dragging his erection along Dean's bulge until he saw Dean's irises blaze with need. Tossing his head back, Castiel drifted away as Dean devoured the skin on his neck and crushed his groin down in enticing rhythms.

It was twisted, what he and Dean had between them. Desires buried so deep yet surfaced so above that sex wasn't sex and lust wasn't lust. If what they said was true, that love was giving someone the ability to destroy you but trusting them not to; then _this_ must be love.

"Dean," Castiel whimpered, hot breaths coming out in pulsating puffs as they ground their hips against each other. "Come with me, please?"

He never _verbally_ asked Dean to come with him, but if he could not touch Dean with his hands, he may as well touch him with his voice.

"Cas," Dean moaned, reaching down to gingerly hold Castiel's cock in one hand. Cas could feel it burn against Dean's calloused palm.

"Please, Dean" Castiel pleaded one more time, voice urgent as his orgasm continued rising to its inevitable crescendo. "I need you."

_I need you like fish need water and birds need air; like a shroud of darkness needs luminous moonlight. I need you._

Dean bit down his lower lip, forcing back the moans as he spilled in his pants, cum soaking through the thin fabric. Castiel was thrilled. It was another successful night where he didn't have to leave Dean hanging. The man in his arms was dazzling in his euphoric state. Castiel jerked at the radiance, and then came strikingly hard.

~:~:~

"Hey, pretty, a word with you, please?"

Castiel was folding what seemed like endless piles of orange jumpsuits when he felt Nick ruffle his hair and mumble into his ear. He shot a look at Andy who was sitting on the opposite side, before getting up and following him.

"Nick," he greeted once they reached their usual spot behind a row of washing machines.

"How you've been doing?" Nick asked.

"Good," Castiel replied. For the first time in a long time, it wasn't just a polite answer. He was no longer jumpy around other people. Lately he could carry on his days almost normally and it was all thanks to Dean.

Castiel observed Nick was also somewhat giddy. "You look good, too. What's going on?"

"Uriel won't be coming back," Nick replied with a wide smile.

Castiel felt his stomach flip. "Don't tell me he's dead?" he asked, terrified at the idea and what it would mean to Dean.

"Oh, no, far from it," Nick said, shaking his head. "He's recovered and will be sent to a maximum security prison miles away."

Castiel puffed out his cheeks, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well, that's a relief."

"Indeed it is," Nick agreed. He squeezed Castiel's arm with a big grin on his face. "I'm sure pretty soon you'll be able to move out of Dean's cell."

_Shit._ Castiel had forgotten all about it. "About that," he trailed off, fidgeting where he stood.

"Don't tell me you want to stay," Nick cut him off. He sounded irritated.

Castiel could not reply.

"I hear you, Castiel, every night," his friend hissed. "Your voice changed."

Beet red to his ears, Castiel was extremely embarrassed. They might be able to keep their conversations secret, but it was hardly possible to keep his voice down when Dean did things to him.

"Don't tell me he got to you?" Nick snorted. Seeing Castiel did not reply, he wailed, "Castiel, Dean is a monster!"

Cas wanted to argue. He really did.

"You don't know, do you?" Nick continued to sneer, and Castiel wondered what he could possibly not know about Dean. "That Dean killed the previous shut call."

Castiel gasped. Did he just say Dean killed someone, after he was convicted, behind these bars?

"He never got caught, but it's a known fact. Ask anyone," Nick continued to spit his aversion to Dean. "Why else do you think everyone here is afraid of him?"

It seemed to make sense. Bed manners aside, Dean's face was always set. His worn-out complexion and wrinkles told of fierce battles. It seemed as if Dean was on constant kills and nearly-got-killed with countless monsters in an endless-nightmare land. But it took more than a look to subdue a whole bunch of lawbreakers. He had been enjoying his time with Dean so much he almost forgot Dean was a criminal first.

~:~:~

That night it was difficult being in bed with Dean. Castiel could not shake away the information Nick had bestowed on him. Who was Dean, exactly? What kind of person would have gentle, unselfish sex and expect nothing in return? Or was Dean simply a sicko? Why else would he have sex with someone whose touch he didn't want?

The fact that Dean deliberately avoided swallowing his cum could only mean Dean was disgusted with him, _a filthy man-whore_. After some time, Castiel started to believe that maybe he was – a whore – after all. He could spread his legs for anyone who would take his nightmares away.

Dean seemed antsy tonight, toying with Cas' fingers nervously as they lied facing each other in the darkness. Perhaps he had learned of his conversation with Nick today? But that wasn't likely. He and Nick had exchanged more than one conversation in the laundry room, and Dean had never showed any sign that he knew anything about it.

"Cas," Dean said, bringing Cas' hands up to kiss at the knuckles. His voice was lower than usual. "Let's get out of here."

~:~:~

**A/N:** If you haven't known it already, I appreciate all your reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter summary:** C. S. Lewis wrote: "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken."

**A/N:** Kudos to everyone who has read and reviewed the previous chapter. I have to say they were quite unexpected. To quote Castiel himself, "his life was never that simple," and for that I send my sincere apologies to all of you.

~:~:~

Dean couldn't deny he had been thinking about it – about leaving this place. For the year that he had been serving his time here, he never once thought of leaving; never saw the reason to. Sam was better off without him, a fact he hated to admit on his good days. On his bad days, he would be seething, blaming the-ass hats-that-be, who left him to rot in this rat shit's place. But now? Now he couldn't stop his mind from drifting away to a long, winding road appearing before his Baby's windshield, with Cas riding shotgun, his hair a pitiful mess as blowing wind rifled through every strand of it; Dean drumming to his favorite tune on the steering wheel.

There was so much in the world he wanted Cas to see. He wanted to show him their favorite burger joints he and Sam had discovered along the way on their road trips. Dean wanted to share with him the best, the boring and the ugliest moments of his life. What he _did not_ want was keeping their distance in public and keeping their voices low in private. That was no way to live a life.

Above all, he wanted them to make love like they meant it – not fully clothed with typical blowjobs and frottage in a cage that smelled like swine's piss on a mattress that never saw the light of day. Dean toyed with Cas' fingers even more nervously when he thought of what Cas had asked of him last night. He wanted him. _Cas_ wanted him. As Dean's finger moved along the creek of those beautiful buns, Cas' baby blue eyes blazed with desire, and fear, and trust. Dean was flattered at how Cas wanted him to be his first, but _this_ was no way to make love.

"Cas," Dean said, bringing Cas' hands up to kiss at the knuckles. He was beyond nervous. What he was going to say, to Dean, was nothing short of a proposal. No man in his sensible mind would propose if he was not sure the answer would be a yes. And Dean was pretty sure it would be a yes. Who wouldn't want to live a free life outside the cage?

"Let's get out of here," he blurted.

He would never admit it even if he were put on a torturing machine, that he had _dreamed_ of the moment he would propose to a girl (or a boy, as it turned out). Said girl would beam out a yes and throw her arms around his neck and kiss him hard. But, as it happened, Cas looked lost, as if he didn't hear what Dean had said properly.

"What?" Cas asked absent-mindedly. His head tilted feebly to one side and his forehead subtly furrowed.

Dean tried to force a smile on his lips but failed. This was not the reaction he expected. He was thrown off and had no idea how to deal with it. "I said, let's get out of here, Cas," he fumbled for something to say; the rest just followed incoherently. "I can find a way for us to leave this place. We can go and live anywhere we want and start a new life together. We don't have to—"

"I'm not leaving," Cas cut him off, harshly pulling his hands away from Dean's grip, as if Dean was a disgusting bed of worms. Cas sat right up on the bed, frustrated.

Dean instantly sat up after him. "What?" he croaked out for a lack of a more proper word to form. He tried to grab Cas' arm, but Cas jolted out of it and got out of bed, backing away from him.

"I'm not leaving, Dean," he said. His body started to tremble as he curled his arms protectively around himself. "You may leave me if you wish."

"Whoa, Cas, I'm not leaving you." Dean inched closer, cautiously reaching out a hand in an attempt to calm him down. "I'm taking you with me. We're leaving _together_."

Cas shook his head, waving his hand frantically in front of him. "I'm not leaving. That is never an option."

"If you're worried about getting caught," Dean said, gripping Cas by the elbow to steady him, but Cas drew it away.

"I won't tell anyone," Cas said, not letting Dean finish his sentence. He circled around Dean back to bed and started throwing one pillow and one blanket back to the top bunk. "If you no longer wish to stay here, with me, you are free to go."

"I'm not leaving here without you," Dean wailed. He felt like crying. He only wanted them to be happy together, now he was kicked out like a stray dog. How did everything go so terribly wrong?

Cas turned around to look at him sternly in the eyes. "I believe this conversation is over," he said. Then he settled on his bed. Sitting back against the wall, Cas drew his knees up and wrapped his arms tightly around them as if to collect himself. Dean's heart broke as he finally gave up and climbed back up the top bed that had been neglected for God knows how long.

~:~:~

Cas dreamed again, causing him to whimper slightly. The pitiful sound being emitted from the bed below woke Dean and captured his attention. Cas made more keening noises and swiftly Dean was on the floor, next to the lower bed. He tentatively slotted his palm with Cas', who took it in an instant. Cas started to toss and let out broken cries, gripping his hand so tight Dean thought his bones might break. When Cas' writhes turned more violent, breaking in sweat as he called out Anna's name, Dean jumped up onto the bed, slid himself down next to the guy and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shh…" Dean shushed the nightmare-teeming guy, kissing the crown of his head and pulling him into a tighter embrace. "I'm here, Cas. I'm here."

Cas whimpered some more and Dean ran consoling strokes along his back, shushing him with soothing nonsense. Slowly Cas stopped making noises and went still in his arms; a tear drop slipped through the corner of his eye, leaving a glimmering trail down his cheek.

He was so fucked up, Dean thought, as he leaned his head back on the pillow, not moving a muscle of his limbs that wrapped tightly around Cas. All this time, he had been thinking – _fantasizing_ – about their lives in the outside world, when the only one that mattered was right here with him, at this very moment, in this very place. Who the fuck cared where they were or what kind of people they were surrounded with, as long as they had each other? Cas was happy. _He_ was happy, and his dick headed-self had to go and ruin everything.

Dean stayed like that until dawn broke, brightening up the sky. That was when he removed himself from the clingy angel. He tugged Cas under the blanket before climbing back to his own bed, saying to himself he would never let go of his _light_ again.

~:~:~

"God, Dean, you look like shit." Sam winced as soon as Dean stepped into the visiting room. Dean skipped the usual greeting hug because he might not know if he looked like shit or not, but he certainly felt like one.

"Thanks for the butter, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath.

"You alright, Dean?" Sam asked and Dean mentally rolled his eyes at Sam's bitch face No. 14 that said he was incessantly (and unnecessarily) worried about him. "Sorry I took a while to get back to you. Jo got caught up in her case and it wasn't until recently that we could go down to California and catch up on Castiel's case."

Dean waved his hand dismissively. Cas hadn't been bothered by his dreams lately and Dean had been so happy he didn't give much thought about anything else.

Seeing no other response, Sam brought out two case files. He flipped one open. "This is Castiel's case file, as you have already seen it," Sam explained. Dean winced upon seeing those horrendous crime photos again. He quickly shifted his gaze to the other file, which Sam flipped open next. "This is the file Jo got for me of Castiel's parents' murder case."

"Holy hell—"

Even a crude person like Dean was lost for words at what he saw. The angles might be different, but the scenes were unmistakably identical. Dean was going to be sick. He heaved dryly. Lucky for him he didn't eat anything for breakfast because he had been in too foul a mood for that.

Sam suddenly flipped both files close, and for once Dean was grateful Sam didn't make fun of him because of it. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said softly.

Dean raked his brain for an alternative to the word he did not want to say, but he was not sure where his brain was anymore. In the end, he gave up, staring helplessly at the scrap metal disguised as a table.

"We should stop here," Sam stated.

"No." Dean jerked his head up. "I'm fine," he said wearily. "Just go on with it, please?"

Sam nodded. "So, Jo and I went to California," he continued. "Anna no longer works at the restaurant. Business was good so Hester, her friend who has been helping Anna run the restaurant ever since Castiel left, continued to run it for her. Anna herself moved to stay at her parents' cabin house.

"When we reached there, we were greeted by Missouri and Rufus, an old couple who have been working with the Milton family for a long time. Anna was," Sam paused. "She was in no state to receive any guests. That's what we were told at first. She had lost her juices, Dean, totally zoning out, claiming she hears angels talking and stuff."

"What the fuck?" Dean burst out. "Cas' sister is nuts?"

"She wasn't always like this." Sam glared daggers at him. Dean had the decency to look sheepish. "According to Missouri, Anna and Castiel had been very close since they were young, but their relationship started to strain when Castiel got married and it didn't get any better after the divorce. Their parents' death only tore them further apart, and Anna snapped when she learned of Castiel's crime."

Dean whistled. That was one hell of a dramatic story. "Why don't they put her away or something?" Dean asked.

"Castiel insists that they keep her there," Sam replied with another glare which Dean could only respond with a shrug and a voiceless 'what?' "Hester sends a monthly stipend from the money she makes at the restaurant to cover expenses."

"Guess she keeps the rest," Dean snorted.

"Nobody can use it anyway," Sam chipped in. "Castiel is locked up here. Anna is locked up in her own mind."

Dean's smugness became frail at that. He couldn't imagine how he would take it if he had to be locked up here knowing Sam was off being a mushy potato somewhere out there. Suddenly he understood why Cas wanted his sister to stay at home, and thought himself an idiot.

"Dean," Sam called him in a stern voice, and Dean knew it was time to face the inevitable. "Right now Jo is looking up whether there are similar crimes in other states. You know what it means if the results come up positive, right?"

Dean swallowed the bitter bile in his throat. He felt like throwing up again. Of course he knew what it meant. He just didn't have the guts to admit it.

"It can't be," Dean denied. "There is too much difference in the victimology."

"It's too early to tell," Sam countered, and Dean had to rub his face, hard, sighing wearily because he knew damn well Sam was right.

"If he is really a serial killer—"

"He is not!" Dean snapped, smashing the sorry excuse of a table with a loud bang, causing everyone in the room to jump and crane their necks their way.

Sam raised his palms up in defeat. In no time everyone turned their attention back to their business. Sam didn't say anything further. Dean guessed Sam was waiting for him to cool down, but he couldn't stop smoldering inside.

"I'll talk to him," Dean muttered after a long silence.

"You're going to _talk_ to a se—"

In a split second, Dean was across the table, grabbing Sam's lapel tight in his hands. "I swear to God, Sam," Dean hissed.

"What, Dean?" Sam didn't budge, his gaze remained unwavered by Dean's wrath. "I'm only trying to help you here."

Dean let go of Sam with a huff. Sam didn't even pretend to straighten the creases Dean made on his suit jacket. His posture was set straight when he said, "This man is going to be the death of you, Dean, and I'm not speaking in a figurative sense."

"Shut up."

"You don't see how blind you are, but I do," Sam hissed. "If you think I'll let that man hurt you in anyway—"

Dean abruptly stood up. "Give me my burger. I'm leaving."

"I'm not finished, Dean!" Sam retorted.

But Dean didn't care. He was not going to hear any more hateful words from Sam, who hadn't even met the guy. Sam had no right to judge him.

Dean walked over to grab Sam's messenger bag, successfully dodging Sam's protest and fishing his burger out of it. He tucked it under his shirt and stormed out of the visiting room, not even checking to see if any prison guard was looking.

~:~:~

The metal gate was shut after the last schedule of the day. It was at least hours before lights would be out for the night, but Cas already stretched out on his stomach, back to the rest of the room.

Dean sat down on the mattress; the additional weight caused it to shift, but Cas didn't so much as stir.

"Cas," he began, uncertain of what kind of response he would receive. "We need to talk."

The word left an unpalatable taste in his mouth. Dean Winchester did not do talking. But, hell, he would _kill_ his way to get his angel back. What would a little talk matter?

Cas was still. If Dean didn't just see Cas duck into the lower bed, he might have thought he was speaking to a log. Dean let out a quiet sigh. At least Cas didn't kick him away. He would take that as a good sign. "I'm not leaving," Dean said firmly.

Cas still did not move. Dean almost missed the heave in Cas' chest. A shallow rise and fall of his torso that might mean nothing, but Dean could hardly conceal a sigh of relief and curl on the corner of his lips. He carefully placed his hand on the curve of Cas' back, and Cas did not shrink.

"If you want to be here, then I'll stay here with you," he continued. His fingers traced small circles where he touched. He felt Cas' breath hitch. "Until we grow old and wrinkles cover your skin, not mine, because I don't wrinkle." Dean chuckled to himself. "And your bones creak every time you move because you are so _o-old_." He dragged out the last word teasingly.

"We won't last that long, Dean." Cas sat up all of a sudden. His face was still wet with recent tears. Dean cupped Castiel's cheek and wiped them with his thumb.

"Then I'll be with you as long as you live," he said gently; meaning every single word.

Cas nuzzled a side of his face into Dean's palm. Brimming tears ran down his cheek, the moment Cas closed his eyes. Dean gulped down the pain in his chest, knowing full well how badly he had hurt the person he had sworn to protect.

With one free hand, Dean offered the burger he had gotten from Sam this morning. "Truce?" he asked with a sheepish raise of his brow.

Cas opened his eyes and paused for a moment, as if he was deciphering what it was he just saw in Dean's hand. Then he cracked a smile, grabbing the burger and balancing it in his hands.

Dean leaned in to whisper, "The best burger—"

"The best burger in the state, I know," Cas chorused with a timid smile, and, Dean thought, if Cas made him blush any more than he did now, he might just as well put on makeup and start wearing lacy dresses.

Cas unwrapped the paper and neatly refolded it into an easy-to-eat half-wrap. Then he passed the burger back to Dean. "There's only one," he said.

Dean blinked, stunned. "Well, it's for you." He didn't even intend to eat it. It was true Sam may have brought it for him, but since he thought of giving it to Cas, he didn't even crave his favorite food anymore.

"We can share," Cas insisted.

"After you, then," Dean smiled, ruffling Cas' hair. His boyfriend was so cute. And Dean had to blush again because Cas was not a five-year-old to be used the word _cute_ on and most definitely not his boyfriend. Well, not officially anyway.

Cas took a small bite and passed it to Dean who wolfed down a big chunk. _That_ was how you ate burgers, if you asked him.

"Did Sam come to visit you again?" Cas asked after he finished swallowing the food he was chewing.

"Yeah," Dean answered over a mouth full of bread and meat.

"How is he doing?" Cas asked before taking another small bite. He passed the burger again to Dean, who took it and left it at that. At this rate, he would finish it before Cas could really taste anything.

"Good, I guess." Well, Dean didn't actually ask, seeing they were busy fighting over the fact that Cas was a se—or not; definitely not. This reminded Dean what they needed to talk about. Talk, _yuck_. "You didn't have any visitors?" he asked, passing the burger back to Cas.

"Well, my family is in California," was the only thing Cas offered. Castiel took another bite, then stared into space, munching slowly.

Dean was going to push further when he heard footsteps approaching. "Someone's coming," he whispered, nudging Cas to hide the food. Cas quickly hid it under his pillow. Then they resumed acting like they were only talking and nothing more.

"Winchester!"

His name was called while the metal gate was banged loudly with a club. Dean turned to see a prison guard named Britton. He must have been doing his off-routine check. The guy was a total douche.

"Sir," Dean replied as he got up to hide Cas behind his back. Britton liked everyone to call him Sir. Dean did it more as sarcasm.

"Do I smell food in here?" He bellowed, nose crinkling as he sniffed the air.

That bastard must have the olfactory sense of a dog. "Could be, sir," Dean replied smugly. He could hear Cas gasp from behind him. "I just farted."

Cas snorted and Dean barely managed to stop himself from cracking up.

"You think it's funny?" Britton bawled. He hit the metal bar again with his club, causing another annoying clang to pierce through the hall. "Milton!"

"No, Sir." Cas slowly appeared from behind him. Dean could see he tried hard to keep himself straight-faced. "He just farted in my face. There is nothing funny about it, Sir."

_Oh God._ Dean could hardly contain the air that threatened to breathe nosily out his nose in amusement. Luckily, Britton was not amused and he quickly moved to find his entertainment elsewhere.

Both of them burst out laughing as soon as they heard the douche-guard bang the gate of another cell. Dean's body bent in half as he clenched his stomach tight. He had forgotten that laughing hard did hurt, but he couldn't stop it.

"I farted in your face, huh?" Dean's voice went an octave higher as he tried to wheeze it out before collapsing into another laughing fit.

Cas grinned happily from ear to ear, something Dean never saw before. "Well, your ass was right in front of my face, so, yeah, I guess?"

Dean dissolved in another laugher before it died down to faint chuckles. He clasped a hand on Cas' shoulder and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes with another one. "It's been years since I laughed this hard."

Cas returned a smile that warmed up the whole place, down to his soul. It suddenly felt suffocating, because he was utterly happy. Dean Winchester did not deserve to be happy.

"So, uh," Dean cleared his throat; his face was still flushed hot. "You're going to finish that burger?"

Cas turned to retrieve the burger from under his pillow and, when he turned back, straight away offered it to Dean.

Dean took another big chunk of it because who would have thought laughing hard could drain this much energy. He passed it back to Cas, saying, "I'm done. You can finish it."

Cas nibbled his burger. A feverish pink hue was still apparent on his face. "I thought every guard is Dean-friendly?" he asked between bites.

"Well, you can't make everyone like you." Dean shrugged. "Speaking of, don't do that again, okay?"

"Do what?" Cas asked. His innocent eyes looked up to Dean while he tossed the last bite into his mouth. He rolled the wrapping paper into a ball and threw it in the trash can across the room.

"Defy the authorities. Don't get yourself into trouble. If anyone wrongs you, just let me know. I'll take care of it."

While it was funny, Dean had to admit, it wasn't very wise. It was true not everyone was Dean-friendly, all the more reasons not to step on anyone's toes.

"Cas?" Dean called. Castiel looked somewhat absent after hearing Dean's reply.

Shuddering slightly, Cas cautiously uttered in a low voice, "Can I ask you something?"

Dean gave a nod of consent.

"Is it true that you killed the previous shut call?"

Dean froze. The question hit him like a biting gust of wind, never welcomed in snow-covered terrains. "Who told you that?"

Cas bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze. His fingers fidgeted with the bed sheet, but he did not give any reply.

"Who?" As far as Dean knew, and his knowledge was undeniably _vast_, the only two people Cas talked to were Chuck and Gabriel. They had no reason to talk to Cas about _that_. The thought of Cas talking to someone else, behind his back, was enough to send Dean mad.

"Someone," Cas mumbled, almost inaudible.

"Which someone?" Dean pressed, agitated.

Cas was silent for a few moments more. Then he heaved a sigh before breathing out, "Nick."

"Nick as in Lucifer?" Dean squawked. He felt a sudden sharp pain drilling in his head. "How did you even talk to the guy?" Not to mention they were on a first-name basis!

"Well, he works in laundry," Cas replied self-consciously.

"Don't listen to him." Dean rolled his eyes. Of all people, Cas must be chitty-chatty with the last person on earth Dean wanted him to converse with. "He is a monster!"

"He said the same thing about you," Cas mumbled again. His eyes looked in every direction except Dean.

"And you believe him?" Dean wailed. His head was now throbbing as he imagined countless conversations Cas and Lucifer had and other venomous lies the Devil had been spitting on him. His skull felt like rupturing at the thought of Cas keeping hundred other _secrets_ that Dean did not know.

"You didn't answer my question," Cas stated pointedly.

Infuriated, Dean groaned, "Did he also tell you that Alastair was a very cruel man?"

Castiel went still. His gaze slowly lifted up to Dean's.

"Guess not," Dean snorted. "Everyone's life is better without him, Cas."

Tilting his head to one side, Cas looked into his eyes. "So you did kill him."

The fuck was it that Cas had to know whether he had killed Alastair or not! It was not something he could blurt out to anyone _even if_ he did it!

The raging flame was making Dean woozy. Dean bent down to hold both of Cas' hands in his. The warmth from them instantly grounded Dean. His rage gradually subsided and his voice softened as he asked, "Would you hate me if I said I did?"

Cas shifted his gaze down at their joined hands, clearly deep in thoughts. "I also killed someone," he uttered admittedly after a long halt. "Doesn't mean it's the right thing to do"

"Of course not," Dean agreed. "That's why we're doing penance here."

Cas lightly nodded.

Dean took the opportunity to continue his intended conversation before he was interrupted by that douche-guard. "You said your parents were murdered, right? Did they catch the murderer?"

Cas shook his head. He kept staring down at Dean's thumb that was now brushing up and down the back of his hand.

"Wanna tell me about it?" Dean asked. He dipped his head lower to catch Cas' gaze, which followed him up as he straightened back.

Cas grabbed Dean's hands a little tighter and Dean could see uncertainty and fear flicker in those ocean-blue eyes. "It's okay, Cas." Dean gave those hands a reassuring squeeze. Cas never gave details on his parents' death before. It was understandable considering the nature of the crime. "I'm here whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, Cas held on to Dean's hands more securely before he began, "Anna and I…" He trailed off again. Dean could see how difficult this was for Cas so Dean let him continue at his own pace.

"Anna and I were driving to our parents' house one evening," Cas blurted. "It was a long drive and it was late at night when my car broke down in the middle of nowhere." Cas paused. He started to fidget where he sat. "It took us hours to get help. When we finally reached our parents', it was already dawn. We walked into the house and they were…" Cas' voice broke at this point. A single tear ran down his face as Cas looked at Dean with an unspoken plea, blue eyes quivering with fright. Dean reached up to wipe his cheek, but it seemed to cause Cas to break down. Cas cried out in a flood of tears, "They wouldn't have died if I had checked my stupid car, Dean!"

Instantly Dean pulled Cas in his arms, shushing him. "You don't know that. You could have died too."

Dean closed his eyes in hope that it would make the horrible images of the crime scene go away. There was no doubt Cas would have died a horrible death had he been there that night, but Cas didn't seem to see it that way. He understood how Cas felt, completely. The weight of failing to save people you loved, he shouldered it with him every single day.

Cas buried his face on Dean's shoulder, his arms holding on to Dean tight. Dean let him cry until it slowed down to quiet sobs. His soaked shirt plastered against his skin, a tangible evidence of guilt draining an anguished soul.

"Most days I wish I was dead," Cas murmured.

Dean felt like someone had just hammered his heart with an ice pick: precise and deadly. But he'd rather have _that_ than a life without Cas.

"Don't say that," Dean mumbled against Cas' temple as he rocked both of them gently back and forth, securing the sobbing mess in his arms.

Cas sniffled. He was now having difficulty breathing because his nose had become stuffy. Dean reached over to grab a tissue paper. Cas sat back to clean his face.

"My life has never been the same since then," he said, throwing the used paper away. His voice was still nasal.

Suddenly it dawned on him. "Is that why you've been having nightmares?" Dean asked.

Cas looked numb with shock. "What?" he breathed with an incredulous frown.

"I said, is that why—"

"How do you know about the nightmares?" Cas cut in sharply.

Dean opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it. It was a mistake – _his_ mistake – that ensued a simple realization. How could he tell Cas that he knew because he heard him cry in distress _every night_?

Cas looked as if his entire existence had crumbled to the ground. His eyes widened in what Dean could not tell if it was fear or pain. "How long have you known this?" He asked in a cracked voice.

Really, how would he answer that question?

"You've known all along, haven't you?" Cas started to shake. He looked as if he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Oh God," he groaned, pressing his palms on this temples, backing away from the bed. "It all makes sense now."

Dean stepped out of bed cautiously. "Cas?"

Cas looked up to Dean, arms dropped to both sides of him. Another tear drop rolled down his face. "You never wanted me. I'm just a charity case to you, aren't I?"

"What?" Dean cried in disbelief. He'd rather have his chest ripped open than have Cas thinking Dean never wanted him. "What are you saying?"

Cas stomped back to the bed and, to Dean's horror, snatched the 'Muscle Car' book from under the mattress and threw it on the floor. The thick book dropped with a dull thud as Cas glowered at Dean.

Really, how would Dean explain why he had a handbook for a partner of a rape victim?

"Cas," Dean called, his voice not short of begging. He reached out to catch Cas by the arm, but it was harshly pulled away.

"Don't touch me!" Cas bawled.

Dean tried to get hold of Cas again, but before he knew it, he was shoved face-first onto the mattress. His right arm was tightly twisted behind his back, his wrist sprained at a dangerous angle under Cas' weight. Dean grunted in pain. He had taught his student too well.

"I'm so mad I can break your wrist right now," Cas hissed behind Dean's ear. "I will regret it, but that's for another time."

The howl was deafening in his ears when Cas pressed a little further. Then he let Dean go, leaving him nursing his injured wrist. Dean felt tears pricking his eyes and choked it back.

Cas sat on the bed, bracing his back against the wall. He drew his knees up and he leaned against the bars at the foot of the beds, his gaze unseeing out of their cell.

The main lights were out. Dean fumbled for whatever he could find to make a makeshift splint for his wrist. He would wait until tomorrow to have it looked at. Right now he sat himself down the other side of the room, facing the bed. Cas glanced at him briefly then closed his eyes, as if the sight of Dean was too excruciating to bear.

~:~:~

Dean opened his eyes at the familiar whimpering sound. For a fleeting moment he didn't register why he was on the floor. Then Cas whimpered again and Dean was promptly on his feet.

Cas was still curled at the foot of the bed. It must be uncomfortable sleeping in a sitting position but he had been too stubborn to move. Dean sighed, thinking back at how so many things had happened the last few days – how so many things had _changed_. A few things he did he was sorry for, more things he regretted. He wondered if he could turn back time to when he and Cas had been happy, to when things unsaid had remained unsaid.

Cas squirmed again and this time Dean did not wait until Cas called out Anna's name. He sat next to the sleeping man and pulled him into his arms. Cas mewled as Dean gently placed Cas' head on his shoulder.

"Shh...I'm here, baby," Dean comforted him.

Cas whined weakly and nestled against Dean. Soon his breathing became slow and heavy. Dean leaned his head on his tousled dark hair, letting tears slide down his face for the first time.

~:~:~

Dean noted how everyone stole glances at his wrist, now neatly swathed in bandages. He had visited the infirmary and was relieved to learn that nothing was broken. A few puffs of pain relief spray were helpful, though. Couldn't say it didn't hurt.

But if a glower could kill, Dean was certain he would have been dead, repeatedly, by now. After the alarm went off this morning, Dean tried to approach Cas again, only to be greeted with a death glare. Dean instinctively cradled his wrist, and mentally told himself to back off before he got the other one injured as well.

It was all too familiar, the fuming hatred Cas carried with him everywhere he went. Dean had seen it before, the days after Dean stopped _assaulting_ him – those nights when Cas was plagued by the nightmares. Cas would become aggressive, surrounded by a bubble of resentment, hitting anything he could the first chance he got. Worst of all, there was this sense of aversion towards him, as if Cas couldn't hate anything more than he did Dean. He remembered those times well. He just never thought he would live to see it again.

There had been passing thoughts, back then, that Cas was being subject to mood swings because he was afflicted by those troubled dreams. But now that Cas didn't have them – Dean was very certain of it – why would Cas still anoint him his adversary, Dean had no idea.

Or maybe _that_ was the cause. Now that Cas had learned there was a way to have a peaceful sleep without having to have sex with Dean, Cas became outraged. Perhaps Cas regretted those nights spent in bed with him, _bare_ naked for him, mewing and begging Dean to bring him to his orgasm.

Dean shuddered at the thought. He never once questioned what they had between them, but now he felt _cheap_ and _used_. It made perfect sense now why Cas never so much as touched him, let alone asked him to take off his clothes.

Cas never wanted him. He only used Dean to get rid of his nightmares.

There was now a new feeling inside of Dean – a boiling fury bubbling hot and dense and ready to explode like an active volcano. It certainly didn't help when someone approached him.

"What do you want, Andy?" Dean barked.

"Whoa, calm down, mate." Andy quickly took a step back, hands rising in front of him. "I just have something to tell you. Thought you might want to know"

"What is it?" He felt itchy to break some bones if it appeared to be something he _did not_ want to know.

"Did you know Castiel requested for a cell change?"

"He what?" Dean bawled.

"He requested for a cell—"

Next thing Dean knew, Andy was against the wall, locked by Dean's arm that was only a hairsbreadth away from crushing his windpipe. "If you're fucking messing with me," Dean hissed. The inside of his head was now spinning and his vision hazy.

"No, Dean," Andy croaked. "I wouldn't dare."

Dean ruthlessly let go of him. Andy fell to the floor, coughing. "I saw the document, Dean, on Crowley's desk. He signed it; effective immediately."

Incensed, Dean paced the room. Cas requested for a cell change. He wanted to leave Dean, and all this time Dean had been thinking about spending the rest of his life with him—

Dean stopped and hauled Andy to his feet. "Do you know where he was reassigned to?" When Andy hesitated, Dean snarled, "Which cell?"

Andy stammered, "Lucifer's"

Dean tossed the other inmate to the floor. Cas was fucking leaving to be with Lucifer. Dean couldn't process that. His head was killing him. How could he— How would he—

"Where is he?" Dean growled.

Not getting any answers, Dean shouted into Andy's confused face, "Where the fuck is he!"

"In the kitchen," Andy spluttered. "I just saw him in the kitchen."

~:~:~

When Dean reached the kitchen, he saw Cas sitting at the far end of the room. There was no mistaking that body even though Cas had his back to him. Dean was half-way through when someone approached Cas.

Lucifer

The bastard walked right into Cas' personal space and he fucking placed his hand on Cas' back and Cas didn't even flinch! Dean saw red. The two seemed to be talking in a hushed voice. Cas looked up to the standing guy, the hand on his back making steady movement up and down. When Cas turned to his tea (how the hell did he get tea in here?), the Devil tilted his face Dean's way and smirked.

That son of a bitch just smirked at him! Dean was so furious he could rip open a mother cow with his bare hands right now. Then Lucifer leaned down to whisper something into Cas' ear, and sniffed his hair. That foolish dope just let a pervert sniff his hair! How could Cas be so clueless! Unless he let the dick do it on purpose—

Dean yanked Cas from the chair once Lucifer was gone.

"What the hell, Dean?" Cas wailed, wrenching his arm away from Dean's tight grip.

"Yeah, what the hell, Cas?" Dean scoffed. "What the hell did I just see?"

When Cas returned nothing but a glare, Dean continued, "Is that why you won't leave the laundry room, huh? So you can have him grope you by day and me by night?" Dean sneered. Cas was practically shaking now; his hands clenched into fists. Like Dean cared. He wouldn't make the same mistake as getting caught off-guard again. He could dodge Cas' punch, anytime. "You little slut," he spat.

What Dean did not expect was a gush of warm tea streaming down his head.

"Enjoy your tea, Dean," Cas said through gritted teeth. Tepid infusion dripped from Dean's hair, leaving bitter taste on his lips. The cup shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. Cas' entire body trembled as he stormed away.

"Cas!"

~:~:~

The metal gate was slid shut and Cas was still nowhere to be seen. Dean hadn't thought _'effective immediately'_ would mean, you know, in effect, like, today. But what the hell, Cas could go groping with his favorite concubine twenty-four seven now, for all Dean cared.

Lights out and Dean curled himself in the lower bed, hugging the blanket because it was warm and it smelled like Cas. He was pathetic as fuck, daydreaming of serving Cas breakfast in bed when all Cas ever wanted was to be locked up here with— Dean couldn't even stand _thinking_ of that name anymore. He never saw it coming, and here he was, thinking he had everything in control. So much for being a shut call.

Dean buried his face in the pillow, hoping to soothe the stinging burn in his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to cry while Cas was out there _giggling_ somewhere. It was just a stupid, stubborn pain in his chest that refused to dull away. He had endured much worse. He wouldn't fall apart because of a heart wrung out, squashed, bloody and pulpy, and thrown right back into his face.

Dean sniffled. No, it was just the cool air. His body didn't need the warmth beside him. He had a blanket for that – two, actually, now that he was alone in this cell. Sam would be happy to hear that he didn't have a cellmate anymore. Dean would make sure it stayed that way. If they ever _fucking_ put anyone with him again, he would break their nose, and maybe a few fingers – a few limbs if needed be – to guarantee that his new cellmate would be sent to an outside hospital and never returned.

He would not fall for anyone again. Dean Winchester had thrown his squashed heart to the depths of hell and no amount of angels raiding siege there would be able to raise it from perdition. The ghost of him roaming this dungeon would slowly decay and eventually perish, ferrying his damned soul from one misery to the other.

"Dean!"

Dean jumped to his feet. He wasn't hallucinating. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. But why would Cas call his name in a frightened voice?

He leaped to the gate, clutching the metal bars, straining his ears but he didn't hear anything.

"Cas?" Dean hollered.

"Dean, help me! I'm in Lucifer's cage."

Dean rested his forehead on the cold barrier. He might have been broken, but they were so fucking wrong to think he was going to endure any sick joke.

"Of course, you are," Dean said with a snort. "You requested a cell change, remember?"

Cas went silent and Dean gave out a quiet sigh of alleviation, thinking maybe those fuckers would just leave him be now.

"Dean!" Cas shouted back again, his voice completely terrified. "I didn't file the request!"

~:~:~


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Summary:** Another night when Dean and Castiel do not share the same cell.

**A/N: **A little heads up, people! What happens in this chapter is brutal by nature (re-read the warnings if you have forgotten them already) but _very_ crucial to the story. I encourage you to read on, if possible. There is no graphic depiction of the actual crime.

~:~:~

"Anna?"

Castiel was walking along familiar dense woods. It was a couple of miles away from their cabin house, where the Milton family hung out every so often when he was a kid. Now he was all grown up, stepping on piles of dry leaves in his too bulky trench coat, insensitive to the weather around him.

"Anna!" he called again. A little girl that couldn't have been older than five, in a white lacy dress, turned his way. She was holding a bunch of flowers in one of her small hands, her red hair brightened against the sunrays, forming a golden halo above her head.

"Castiel!" Anna cried with a wide smile. She hopped across the short distance and handed him the flower. "These are for you," she said.

Castiel took the flowers and inhaled their fresh, earthly scent. He gave Anna a smile that mirrored the warmth in his heart. "They are very pretty. Thank you."

Anna blushed and smiled shyly. Then she reached her two arms up in the air.

Castiel chuckled. It was his cue to crouch down and Anna to climb up his back. She placed her arms around his neck and his arms locked her two legs around his waist. Then he got up and started walking along the small creek. The sound of running water could be heard in the background.

"Can we sing?" Anna asked into his ear.

Castiel chuckled again. His memories of his little sister always made him happy. "Of course, angel; which song you want to sing?"

"Angel!" Anna cried in excitement.

Castiel smiled to the girl on his back, contented. "The angel song, then"

The title was not really 'The Angel Song', but that was what was known between the two of them. It had become _their_ song. Castiel would sing one line, Anna the next.

"_If you don't come with me, I'll tell on you,"_ Castiel started.

"_I'll make your bed. I'll clean and shine your shoes,"_ Anna shouted more than sing, but it really didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Anna was happy. He knew. His sister was happy when she had a dream yet to be fulfilled.

"_Oh, I wish I was in heaven by your side,"_ Castiel started the refrain, which echoed by Anna's voice singing, _"I wish I was in heaven by your side."_

"_'Cause you're my angel,"_ Castiel sang his favorite line, turning sideways to give a quick kiss on his sister's cheek.

"_And I'm your pride!"_ Anna ended the refrain with a wide smile, kissing him back.

Castiel couldn't hold back the delighted grin on his face as he walked deeper into the woods, careful not to trip over any protruding roots on the ground. His sister had always been his unblemished little angel and his brainy little pride.

"Castiel, look!" Anna screamed, pointing at the air in front of them. Castiel followed the direction of her finger to see a couple of butterflies fluttering around in graceful swirls. Anna always loved butterflies. Before Castiel knew it, Anna slid herself down his back and ran, chasing the tiny creatures.

"Anna, don't run!"

But Anna had already disappeared behind a line of trees. Castiel only got glimpses of her white dress and red hair flowing in the wind.

"Anna!"

He rushed to where Anna had vanished. After he walked a few feet down the slope and circled around a bush, he saw his little sister sat down on the ground, hugging her knees, crying.

"Anna, did you fall?" Castiel asked gently, crouching down next to the girl. Her pretty dress was now smeared with dirt.

"Anna?"

When Anna looked up, however, her face was smothered with tears, red blood seeping all through her white dress. She was in her adult form. "You said you would protect me!" she blubbered. "Why didn't you protect me?"

Castiel flopped back on the ground, shaking as guilt choked him, until he needed to gasp for air. His sister was broken and he failed to glue her pieces back together. Words of apologies swam in his head, but he couldn't get one – not a single one – out.

"Castiel," a little girl's voice called his name. Startled, Cas turned around to see the five-year-old Anna standing next to him, all calm and clean. "You need to wake up. Now!"

~:~:~

Cas tried to wake up but his eyelids were heavy. It took him several blinks and a lot of will-power to finally get them open. The place he saw looked familiar alright, all dim lights and shadows of bars, but there was something different about it.

Castiel jolted out of his daze, but tripped backwards because his hands were tied behind his back, assumingly by a rope. He looked down to see he had no clothes on himself. Clumsily, he stumbled out of bed to the metal gate to confirm that he was not on the first floor, the floor of his cell.

"Dean!" Castiel cried out in a panic. Why was he not in his cell? The tied-up wrists and naked body spelled all kinds of trouble. He struggled to unlace the rope, only to find that it was impossible.

"Now, now," a low voice came up from the dark, sending chills up Castiel's spine. There was no mistaking that devilish voice. "Do you really think I'd teach you to escape a restraint _I_ would use?"

There was still no reply from Dean. Cas' heart dropped to his feet, thinking all kinds of horrible things that could have happened to his cellmate. There was no way things would end up this way if Dean was alright.

"Cas?"

A small sigh of relief escaped his lips, when he heard Dean shout back. "Dean, help me!" Cas cried out immediately. "I'm in Lucifer's cage."

Slowly he started to remember how he got in here. Castiel had been _troubled_ after he and Dean had a heated argument last night. He had been so full of anger and hatred that he decided to seek comfort in a cup of tea. But, as he felt the warmth of the teacup in his palms and inhaled the soothing aroma through his nostrils, his rage had settled down. He was thinking of giving the tea to Dean as a peace offering – he had saved the sachet for Dean after all – when Dean yanked him out of his chair and accused him of being _'a little slut'_.

Castiel shuddered at the thought.

"Of course you are," Dean hollered back. "You requested a cell change, remember?"

Castiel felt his feet go icy cold as fear gripped his heart. He never requested a cell change. There were times when he had thought of it, but he never actually did that. How did Dean get the idea?

The sudden realization made his stomach heave. _Lucifer—_

Blood draining from his being, Castiel carefully turned to the culprit who sported a vicious smirk on his lips, glints of malice shining in those lust-filled eyes. He had seen those looks before – on Uriel and his men.

"Dean!" Cas shouted at the top of his lungs. He was now completely terrified. "I didn't file the request!" He hoped Dean understand how serious the situation was. "Help me!"

"GUARDS!"

Castiel quivered when he heard Dean shouting for help. Dean screaming only meant he was also locked up in his cell. But Dean would certainly be able to help him. He always was.

"Guards! Open the gate! There is a prisoner missing!"

Dean kept shouting for the guards' attention. Castiel waited on wobbly legs, but there was no alarm, no buzz, nothing indicating that Dean was even acknowledged. Dean's voice grew more livid by the seconds, and with it Castiel's hope faltered.

"Guards! Open the God-damned door!"

"Oh, shut up, Dean!" Lucifer cried in annoyance. He now walked over to the metal gate. Castiel took a few cautious steps away from the man. "No one is coming to help you, not tonight anyway." He smirked. "I'll save my voice if I were you."

"Lucifer!" Dean yelled. "If you ever lay a finger on him, I'll fucking kill you!"

As if to prove his point, Lucifer quickly reached out and grabbed Cas by the hair. Castiel hissed at the sudden pain. "I just did. Come and kill me," he dared. "Or you can come get me in the morning, after I finished screwing your boy toy."

"LUCIFER!" Dean snarled.

Just then Castiel realized there was nothing Dean could do but yell. There was no way in hell Castiel would let himself be a victim again. He used the grip on his head as leverage and pushed Lucifer into the wall, kneeing the bastard in his groin.

Lucifer howled as he covered both hands over his crotch, his legs buckled under him. Castiel promptly swung a kick in the head, throwing the man curling on the floor. He was going to kick the life out of the Devil when suddenly he felt woozy.

Before Castiel could gather himself, he was shoved away, followed by a hard fist to his jaw. His face throbbed as he swayed to one side. Cas then got a straight kick in the stomach that sent him thumping the bunk bed and fell to the floor, coughing with pain.

"Damn it, Castiel," Lucifer snapped. He raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his lips. "Don't make me hurt your pretty face."

"Lucifer!" Dean shouted, his voice almost breaking. "What do you want?" Dean must have heard the fight. He almost _begged_ when he said, "Tell me what you want. I'll get it for you, anything. Just don't hurt him."

Lucifer's lips curled up into a sneer. "Don't you think _this_ is what I want, Dean? Some alone time with this naughty angel?"

Arms still straining behind his back, Castiel struggled to get up. Lucifer stomped his feet down on Cas' abdomen, keeping him where he was. The twinges in his repeatedly bruised belly made Castiel grunt.

"Look, my brother's a lawyer." Dean was getting tired of Lucifer's bullshit. "He can get you out of here. A deal, a re-trial, anything you want."

"He didn't seem to get you out of here," Lucifer taunted. His eyes carefully ran over Castiel's lying form on the floor; his foot still crunched Cas' torso. Castiel strived for much needed air and relief while attempting vainly to hide his exposed body parts.

"Just tell me what the fuck you want!" Dean fumed in rage.

"You know what I want, Dean," Lucifer replied, unwaveringly. "You know I can't have it unless you die. I can't kill you, so I thought why I don't just break you then?" he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Then I'll die!"

"Dean!" Castiel cried just as quickly, frightened. Dean was willing to die, all because Castiel was stupid and careless enough to walk right into this very cell, asking for another cup of tea.

"I'll die," Dean continued, ignoring Castiel's plea. "Then you can have what you want. Just don't hurt him. Please"

"How touching!" Lucifer bewailed in mock admiration, a hand clutching his chest dramatically. "But then what's the fun in it?"

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer yanked Castiel up and pushed him face-first on the lower bed, exposing his ass in the air. Then he knocked at Cas' knees so now the only leverage Cas had was his sore stomach that was slung over the bedside railing. Castiel fought to wriggle free, but he couldn't, when Lucifer threw his weight on him.

"This is all on you, Castiel," Lucifer hissed behind his ear. "Dean's empire wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't been so _weak_."

Castiel couldn't halt the anguished cry when a finger was force into him. It was all too quickly, too excruciating. Tears brimmed over his eyes. His heart thundered in fright.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"You kept your porcelain well, Dean." Lucifer didn't even budge by Dean's manifestation of wrath. His finger kept scraping Cas' inside, cutting and piercing, while Cas' body fought to discharge the foreign object. Castiel sweated of what he didn't know, if it was fear or pain. "If I hadn't known better, I would have thought I'm fucking a virgin ass."

"GUARDS! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR OR I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU AND YOUR WIFE AND YOUR CHILDREN, AND YOUR FUCKING GRANDCHILDREN!"

Tears were shamelessly streaming down Cas' face. There was little to no lubrication and the pain was beyond unbearable. He bit at the bed sheet as if it could stifle the pain; his legs thrashed about helplessly, unable to hold ground.

"GET HIM OUT OR I'LL FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE DOWN!"

Dean's voice rang in Castiel's head like a broken speaker, indistinct and unintelligible. Soon it resolved to high-pitched reverberation that made his ears bleed. It was no secret what Dean's rage could bring. Those threats Dean made would not come out of his mouth empty. Castiel was terrified of Lucifer, but he was more terrified of Dean now, of whom Dean had become, of who _he_ had made Dean become.

Castiel bit the inside of his mouth. Dean mustn't know what was going on in this cell. His physical pain he could endure. It was the agony that he didn't want Dean to suffer. He couldn't protect his sister, but at least now he could protect Dean.

"You're going to play a silent game, huh?" Lucifer hissed like a poisonous snake. He grabbed and pulled at Cas' hair. Castiel's neck was stretched but he kept his eyes closed and his mouth tightly shut. "Not gonna moan for my cock, are ya?"

A tremor of fear rippled through Cas' skin at the venomous voice. His head was now in a whirl and his mind a blur. When there was another sharp pang down below, everything burst into a blinding flare.

~:~:~

The brightness gradually faded. A silhouette of someone became clearer in front of him. He'd recognize the shape anywhere.

"Dean?" Castiel muttered, confused. Dean was smiling warmly at him. Slowly, Castiel took in the different surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Your room," Dean replied with a gentle swipe of thumb over Cas' cheekbone. "You said your bed was the most comfortable, right?"

"It was." Castiel nodded absent-mindedly. It wasn't until Dean had him in his arms that Castiel felt an uncomfortable ache in his body. "Dean?" Cas cried in a shaky voice. He didn't quite understand what was going on and he was afraid.

"Shh… I got you, babe," Dean soothed him. His voice was so tender Castiel's tension gradually dispersed. But the pain remained and he clung closer to Dean. "Hold on to me," Dean said.

Castiel shifted so his body was flushed with Dean's. The pain was now throbbing through his body, each pulsation echoing his terror.

"Relax, Cas," Dean whispered as he pampered kisses behind Cas' ear. "Don't fight it."

"Dean," Cas whimpered. He felt as if his body was nothing but a rickety frame that threatened to fall apart with each stinging plunges. It was only Dean's embrace that was keeping him whole. "It hurts. Make it stop."

"Hang in there, baby," Dean mumbled as he trailed kisses down Castiel's collarbone. "It will soon end."

Castiel's hands fumbled through the back of Dean's head as he tried to squeeze Dean tighter to himself. Dean delved his nose and lips into the crook of Cas' neck, licking and tasting the patches of skin Dean knew Cas was most responsive at. Castiel shivered at the flush of pleasure, arching his head back to bare more of his flesh. He needed more of Dean's affectionate touches. No, he needed _all_ of Dean's touches, if they would wash away the pain.

"Give me a kiss?"

Castiel didn't need to be asked twice. He crushed their lips together. Dean was quick to catch it and soon both of them panted and gasped into an open-mouth kiss, tongues and teeth and lips hungrily sucking, clashing and biting each other. Dean's strong arms cradled the back of his shoulder blades, hands messing up his hair. It went all haywire but Castiel never felt more secure.

When they broke for air, however, Dean's face was wet with tears.

"Why are you crying?" Castiel mewed in confusion as he cupped those watery cheeks in his palms. Dean just rested his forehead against his, giving out a sad, pained sigh.

"I love you so much, Cas," Dean breathed. "I love you so much I don't know what do to with it."

Castiel's heart swelled. His eyes misted with tears as those words hit him like gentle waves in a balmy sea.

"I love you, you silly little dork," Dean said with a faint chuckle as tears continued rolling down his cheeks. His lips curled into a small, blessed smile.

"Say it again," Cas purred. He needed to hear it, more of it, endlessly.

"I love you," Dean said, this time firmly. Castiel inhaled the sweetness of it, basking in the fact that Dean _loved_ him.

He had always thought he knew the feeling was mutual, even though the words had been left unspoken. But now that Dean had uttered it properly, Castiel found that the _joy_ of truly knowing it was incomparable. Dean needed him, the same way Castiel had come to learn, over time, how _vital_ Dean was to him. At this very moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of them; all troubles and fears diffused, melted away and re-emerged as brisk, invigorating breezes.

"I love you, too, Dean." The words wafted through Castiel's lips like a sweet-scented sigh. He hoped they drifted far enough to reach Dean's ears.

~:~:~

Castiel was always startled by the blare of the morning alarm, but this time it came to him as nothing more than a faint hum, seemingly from far, far away. He quickly dismissed it and resolved to continue his restful sleep.

His drifting off, however, was interrupted by someone sweeping one arm under his knees, the other under his back, lifting him up. Castiel tried to pry open his heavy-lidded eyes, but he was merely greeted with swarming light.

"Stay with me, Cas."

The tenderness of it gave him a sense of calm. Castiel rested his head on Dean's stiff shoulder, and then relaxed. He knew he was safe in Dean's arms, wherever it was that Dean was carrying him to.

~:~:~

**A/N:** The song Castiel and Anna sang was Tiny Words by The Orchids. Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Summary:** Calculated Cas, miscalculated Dean, and the rest of the iceberg revealed. Well, some of it, anyway.

**Additional Warnings:** Sam/Jo, mentions of substance abuse

**A/N:** I should like to extend my grateful thanks to all of you who left a review for the previous chapter, even if it was to say you were confused. Don't feel bad if you were confused, so was Castiel!

~:~:~

Sam downed another gulp of whiskey as he sat in the small kitchen of his two-story house. It was very uncommon for him to dull his troubles with alcohol. He needed to stay focused, now more than ever due to Dean's inexplicable obsession with his serial-killer cellmate. Castiel had brought a new dimension of fucked-up to the Winchesters' already fucked-up lives.

If asked, Sam would say they were destined to wind up here in this pit from the start. Sam and Dean were raised by Bobby Singer, who happened to be the Head of the Bureau of Investigation for Sioux Falls' District Attorney. The boys possessed the same skills set Bobby had and more. They would have followed in Bobby's footsteps had they not been recruited by a certain Ellen Harvelle, one of Bobby's friends who happened to be an FBI Special Agent in need of 'private service'.

To put it simply, their job was to help law enforcement officers bring down bad people by executing certain missions that_ law enforcers _could not. The job was illegal, obviously, and beyond dangerous, but Sam was convinced that was what Dean needed: saving people. Since they had lost their parents in an arson attack, Dean blamed himself for not being able to save them; no matter that people said otherwise.

Things had been as good as they got. They spent most of their time on the road as their assignments ranged from east to west. There was, however, a small glitch in their latest mission, which ended up with them being arrested by benighted authorities.

Upon learning there was no way they could get away without blowing up the whole operative, Dean, — behind Sam's back, of course — proposed a deal: Sam walked free, with a full ride to a law school of his choice, and Dean would quietly put himself away. Sam protested, naturally, but Dean reasoned it wouldn't do for the two of them to be behind bars. And he'd rather be dead before he allowed his baby brother to set foot in a prison.

So, here Sam was, putting down roots not far from where Dean was being incarcerated, studying for LSAT while working shifts at a hotel to keep himself occupied. Sam and Dean had been inseparable, and, as much as he hated to admit it, a life without Dean was more difficult to handle than he had thought.

He had help, though. Jo, Ellen's daughter, another FBI agent from a different unit, requested a transfer to their state once she learned of Dean's arrangement. Jo had been their childhood friend and Sam's object of affection since he still had pimples. Jo, on the other hand, developed a serious crush on Dean, who saw her as nothing more than a sister. By the time Jo got over it and started realizing that there was another Winchester looking up at her, it was time for them to hit the road.

"Hey, Jo"

Sam opened the door after he heard the bell ring. Jo stood in the doorway with a stack of folders in her arms, bags of Chinese takeaway in her hands, stunningly beautiful as ever.

"Hi, Sam," Jo said, pecking him on the lips before sliding herself through the threshold. "Sorry. I got here as fast as I could."

It was delightful and depressing at the same time, looking at how far they'd come. It was Jo, who took the initiative, of course, seeing Sam settling down but still disoriented, trying to get Dean out when Dean didn't want to.

Sam had managed to find himself a small house with two master bedrooms and one guestroom; because he always hoped Dean would come to his senses and come to live with him sometime soon — that 'soon' had been the passing of one entire year. Jo still rented her own place, but she crashed here more times than not. They tried to keep their pace slow, for Dean's sake, though Sam couldn't quite imagine his future without her.

"'s fine. Let me get that for you." Sam held out his arms to take the folders from Jo. He was about to set them on the coffee table, when Jo stopped him.

"Nuh-uh…Kitchen. I'm starving."

Jo beckoned towards the back of the house and started walking. Sam picked the files up and followed suit, placing them on the island as she started getting their food out of the bag. She passed two boxes to Sam and two to herself, mumbling something similar to 'yours, yours, mine, mine'. Jo didn't waste a sec and stuck chopsticks into the box to get some food out and into her mouth. Sam didn't mind her appetite one bit. If anything, it reminded him of Dean and made things feel more like home.

"For the sake of your dinner, Sam, I'll keep these folders close." Jo said over a mouthful, one hand still holding the food container, the other free hand spreading the folders in a row over the table. She had called earlier and said she needed to show him something a.s.a.p. Sam slowly started eating his food.

"I looked nation-wide and found seven cases that have the same MO," she continued. "Each case is one year apart. I can't believe no-one has ever linked them before." Jo shuddered visibly. "Anyway, that first file is the furthest back I found. That last one, there, is Castiel's case. The fourth one here is Castiel's parents'." She then paused to chomp down on more food.

"So, among Castiel's victims were his parents?" Sam pointed out with an incredulous frown. Who the hell murdered their own parents? Even if they did, it was always the last case, the ultimate goal, not somewhere in the middle.

Jo slightly shook her head. "The victimology of the first six cases is pretty much the same: elderly couples living peacefully alone in their cozy houses, whereas the last one was two healthy men. But here's what's weird." Jo gulped down whatever remained in her mouth. "Each crime scene was cleaned up pretty good. We got only partial, unusable prints. But combining them, I get usable sets, not one, but two. Now get this, none match Castiel's."

Sam almost choked on his noodles. "What? Are you saying we get the wrong guy?"

"There's more," Jo said, raising a finger to stop Sam from saying anything else. "I ran those sets in IAFIS and they match the two vics here." Jo tapped her fingers on the last file.

"Castiel's victims are suspects in these other cases?" Sam raised his voice.

"Looks that way," Jo nodded in the affirmative.

"Okay, okay." Sam put his food down, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating. So, Castiel killed the serial killers using their own M.O, or he was _the_ killer who staged the scenes for those two, or it could be one of the other deductions Sam could not come up with yet. Either way, who would have thought his big brother would have the hots for such a sophisticated killer? It wasn't like Sam could have his say or anything. He had it bad when he had to deceive Ruby to get to her boss and sabotage their evil master plan.

Anyway, this was new. It meant six cold cases closed. If they played it well, they might be able to cut a deal for Castiel. Dean might get his shit together if he knew his favorite cellmate may not be with him as long as he thought. The ideal option would be to get Castiel out altogether; Dean would be at his heels. What would happen once Dean was out was another story. But first Sam needed valid evidence to build a solid case. He had no clue where to start.

"Fancy taking another trip to California?" Jo asked with a knowing glint in her eyes.

Sam let out a relieved snort. He wasn't normally like this, but Dean's imprisonment had thrown both of them off balance. Dean became cold and irritable; Sam lost and despairing. He had no idea how he could set his feet on the ground if it weren't for Jo.

Sam got up from his seat. He scooped Jo up in his arms and placed her small frame on the countertop. Jo cupped his face and leaned down to kiss him. It was slow because she knew how troubled Sam was. She knew how confused Sam was now that Castiel was also in the picture, and with him came a whole lot of baggage. Sam was grateful for the sensual, understanding touch, because honestly that was what he needed right now — that was what he had _always_ needed. He didn't want to run away from all these predicaments, but it was so hard, so hard to stand ground when his world imploded and came raining down on him after Dean was gone.

Giving out an exhausted sigh, Sam rested his forehead on Jo's. "Stay the night, please?" he said.

Jo responded with her signature grin, "Thought you'd never ask"

~:~:~

Sam sprang into a sitting position as soon as he heard his cell ring. He was on high alert when it came to phone calls since any of them could be an emergency from Dean, especially this early in the morning.

"Hello," Sam croaked into the phone. His voice was gruff after a night's sleep. Jo stirred and whimpered on the other side of the bed.

"Sam!" A familiar voice shouted down the phone. Sam groaned. He was too groggy to deal with nuisances right now.

"Gabriel, what is it?"

Little did Sam realize that it could be an _actual_ emergency call.

"How fast can you get your ass down here?"

~:~:~

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?!" Dean shouted down at the doctor, who was sitting carefully reading and comparing charts at his desk. Dean banged his fists down on the laminated top but the cheap metal desk didn't budge. Dr. Balthazar Sebastian just squinted his eyes at Dean through his glasses.

"Come on, Dean. Don't do this." Gabriel tried to pry Dean away from the desk; hopefully to get Dean to sit and calm down.

"No, I have to do this." Dean jerked his arm away from the shorter man's grip. He had to do this. Cas had been half-conscious since Dean got to him this morning and carried him to the infirmary. And now, even after Dr. Sebastian finished his treatment and administered an IV, Cas remained in a state of slumber.

An hour or so earlier, the moment the morning alarm went off, Dean dashed to Lucifer's cell, only to find the culprit had been gone and Cas lying in a state Dean never wished to see again. No such luck; the image kept replaying itself at the back of his mind. Word going around was that Lucifer had fled and locked himself in solitary. That sly bastard was so fucking wrong to think a lockdown could keep him unharmed. As soon as he knew Castiel was out of danger, Dean wouldn't hesitate to carve and rip the sicko apart, consequences be damned.

Balthazar removed his glasses and placed them on his desk, too collected for Dean's liking. He put down the charts and slightly turned to face Dean. His elbows settled on the armrests as he linked his fingers together. "Castiel had been drugged," he said. "His body did not respond very well to it. You're lucky he's still breathing."

"What do you mean, drugged?" Gabriel cut in while Dean was still gaping in shock. "How can there be drugs in the house?"

"I don't know. You tell me." The doctor replied dauntingly, and it was Dean who needed to gulp because it was his job to keep the place clean. It had been cleaned as far as Dean knew.

"Lately there have been many patients coming in with substance abuse problems," Dr. Sebastian continued. "Not necessarily from your building, of course. Some of them even OD'ed. I tested the drugs in their system but it was difficult to tell what types of drugs they were without access to the drugs themselves. From what I can tell, there seemed to be _variable_ combinations of them. Right now I can only treat whatever symptoms Castiel shows and hope he won't get any worse."

"Hope is not good enough," Dean said through gritted teeth. He failed to keep Cas from harm; he'd be a complete loser if he couldn't keep Cas from hell. "Are you saying you'll be able to help him if you get your hands on the drug?"

Balthazar nodded. Obtaining the drug was definitely not easy, but if anyone could do it, it was Dean. "It's not a guarantee, but certainly better."

Dean swiftly turned on his heels.

"But wait, Dean," the doctor halted him. "It may not be as easy as you think." He paused. On second thought, this task might not be possible at all and even put Dean's life in danger. But now that he had said it, he knew Dean wouldn't back down. Balthazar decided to continue in a low voice. "I've submitted reports on each and every case of these patients, but so far no actions have been taken. It seems like they were all gone with the wind."

Dean could hear Gabriel gasp next to him. So they weren't simply dealing with drugs in prison, but something far fishier. But right now the top priority was Cas' health status. He would fetch the drug first and worry about everything else later.

"My reports are all gone, Dean. Only a handful of people can do that, powerful people. So you'd better be careful." Balthazar warned.

Dean only nodded. He was not afraid. Dean had been dealing with big-name monsters all his life. If anything, it made his fingers itchy and his blood circulate in an energetic buzz.

~:~:~

"What are you doing here, Dean? You should be in your cell."

Dean and Gabriel were walking away from the infirmary, figuring out ways to acquire that mysterious drug, when they were confronted. Before Gabriel could even attempt a reply, Dean had swung the scrawny guard to the wall, arm crushing his throat. The unaware officer gasped for air, which did not reach his lungs.

"Where the hell were you? Why didn't you help him?" Dean hissed in the man's face, each syllable added extra force to the obstruction of the airway.

"Dean! Let him go!" Gabriel tried to pull Dean away from the unfortunate prison guard whose bony face had turned pale and blue, but Dean's grip was too solid. "Damn it, Dean!" Gabriel yelled. "Don't kill him! We still need his help!"

Disgruntled, Dean retracted his arm. Garth fell to the floor, choking on his own spate of breath. He was one of the 'Dean-friendly' guards, and the one Dean was closest with. Once his cough died down, Gabriel helped him up while Garth nursed his own neck.

"Honestly I also want to know where you were last night, dude," Gabriel spoke to the man in his arms, still unbalanced on his feet.

Garth replied raggedly, "I was sent home, Dean, last minute. I'm truly sorry about what happened. I would have stayed if I had known what was going to go down."

Dean bit his lips, clearly trying to stop himself from lashing out another harsh remark or hurling someone off the air and tear them to shreds. It was Gabriel who helped him ask, "Where are the rest?"

"Off-duty," Garth replied. "We were suddenly sent away – home or other buildings – all of _us_."

Dean's hands balled into tight fists, nails biting into his skin. He was trembling with rage. It was his fault he underestimated Lucifer, who seemed to have an upper hand on him. First the drug and now the friends in high places, who knew exactly who was on Dean's side and who was not. Something _nobody_ should even have the faintest idea of.

"But even if there were none of us, the other guards would have to help, right?" Gabriel continued dubiously. "There was a prisoner in distress. It was their job to interfere."

Garth gulped down the lump in his throat. He clung closer to Gabriel, something that shouldn't have happened because _he_ was a correctional officer and _they_ were inmates, but he was very afraid of Dean right now, of how Dean would react to what he would have to say.

"They were ordered not to." Garth shivered, seeing no response from Dean as he previously expected. "They were ordered _not_ to help Cas—"

Dean's fist abruptly hit the concrete wall with a loud thud. The two guys flinched at the same time. Red blotches crept up on Dean's pale knuckles, but he clenched his fists even tighter. Dean hated each and every one of them, those fuckers who feared more for their career and turned a blind eye when Cas was being treated like trash. He hated even more the scumbag who ordered Cas' death sentence. There was only one person who could do this: warden Crowley.

Gabriel stopped Dean in time before more fists could be pummeled into the wall. Dean threw the shorter man away. Gabriel staggered to one side and Dean felt like using him as a punch bag, relieving the urge to destroy everyone and everything from the top of the ladder to the bottom of the food chain; the same way they teamed up to destroy Cas and thus their less-than-perfect lives together.

Garth hurriedly blew his whistle, and in seconds two more prison guards were by Dean's side, securing him before he could further hurt anyone. Dean would not go down without a fight, of course. Garth had to knock him out with a stun baton. The two guards then dragged Dean back to his cell while Garth pretended to secure the other inmate. As soon as they went out of sight, Gabriel swiftly turned to his captor.

"Garth, I need your help with something."

~:~:~


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Summary:** Cas' sister asks him to make a promise; Dean's brother asks him to lie.

~:~:~

It was that place again, the woods not far from their cabin home. Castiel turned around. He narrowed his eyes and strained his ears for any sign of life, but everything was dead quiet. Not even the faintest scent of soil wafted through the gloomy air.

Castiel trod along the sodden path carefully, his leather shoes were tainted with mud in no time. He was not familiar with this area of land and he wondered how far off they had wandered from their usual trail. He quickened his steps, in the hope of reaching recognizable patches or finding his little sister soon.

"Anna!" Castiel called, all the while mentally telling himself to calm down but the fact was that he was extremely worried. After a long walk, he was still trapped among unfamiliar lines of lifeless trees and his sister was nowhere to be found. He probably travelled in circles, but there was no way he could tell.

"Anna!" He called again. After what felt like hours of trekking, Castiel thought the air would change or the sky would get darker or brighter, but none of that happened either. Crushed and confused, he gave up, flopping down on the ground, breaking, in every sense of the word.

With his face buried between his knees, Castiel sensed a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw young Anna, all pretty and impeccable. He quickly pulled his little sister into his arms, shaking as a wave of relief flooded him.

"Oh, Anna," he cried, letting a small teardrop roll down his cheek. "I'm glad you're safe."

Anna stilled. When Castiel realized she didn't reply or hug him back, he let go of her, to check his sister for injuries.

"Are you alright?" he asked, running his hands along her limbs and lacy white dress; turning her around only to see she was spotless. His sister just nodded, then grabbed his hand and started walking.

Castiel scrambled to his feet. Anna kept her pace slow and steady, her brother trailing behind in awkward silent. The air felt heavier without the usual small voice of his chirpy sister. Soon they were hit by a sudden blinding light. When Castiel lowered the arm which he had covered his eyes with, he was faced with the standing building. It was a bright sunny afternoon, as warm and as boisterous as he remembered.

Without hesitation, Anna paced forward and into the house. Castiel hastily ran along, leaving a muddy trail along the wooden porch and hall. But when he saw his little sister stump up the flight of stairs, Castiel's heart set an irregular rhythm. Soon, fear had him remain rooted where he stood at the small landing of the staircase.

Panting for breath, he looked up to see little Anna at the topmost step, beckoning him to follow. Castiel willed his shaking legs to move, and he crawled up the steps to the second floor.

His sister opened the door to her room, stepping aside to let Castiel through. To his half-relief and half-surprise, the bed was made, as if no one had been sleeping on it for quite some time now. He gingerly stepped in. The soles of his shoes tapped upon the wooden floor; the sound resonated across the empty room.

Nothing had changed. They only stayed here on vacations so there were only simple furniture and no fancy decoration: the queen-sized bed he and his sister squeezed in under an ugly brown comforter more nights than not; the heavy wooden desk and wardrobe they used to play hide-and-seek in. Windows were old and creaking as Castiel lifted one of them open. He looked over to see the younger version of himself and his sister playing in the yard. Distant sound of laughter drifted through the thick wooden frame. Castiel wished he was nine again so his life could revolve only around his family and nothing more.

"You always loved me when I was young and innocent," came a familiar voice. Castiel swiftly turned on his heels to see his sister, all grown-up and elegant. What Anna didn't know was that he found her more and more gorgeous with time.

"You know that is not true," Castiel said as he offered his hand with a small smile. Anna took it and stepped beside him by the window sill, locking their arms together. "I've always loved you."

"And you loved Daphne."

Her comment came out more as a sigh while she gazed vacantly out the window. The two children were still playing in the afternoon sun, locks from the girl's red hair flowing pleasantly as they ran in circles. Their faces shone with mirth.

"She was my wife," was always the polite answer he gave.

"And you love Dean."

Castiel was taken aback. _And he loved Dean?_ He didn't even have a polite answer for that. He thought he had known what love was, but since Dean came into his life, he had no idea what love was anymore. What Dean was to him surpassed every definition of the word.

"You're family." Castiel changed the subject. After all, he knew his sister only brought up Daphne, and now Dean, because she was afraid her brother would be taken away from her.

"What about Mom and Dad? Are they family too?"

That remark sent a biting chill through his chest. "Anna," Castiel sighed, holding his sister's hands firmly. He knew soon his sister would break down. She always did every time she broached the subject.

"You let them die!" she screamed, snatching her hands and backing away. Her whole body was shaking as tears ran down her face. "You let _me_ die!"

"Anna, I'm so sorry," Castiel pleaded, reaching out to his sister. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to comfort her once more. "I love you, sister."

"You don't love me," Anna sobbed. "You don't want me now that I'm dirty and damaged and broken beyond repair. You are disgusted with me!"

"That is not true," he said as calm as can be. Anna's back was now against the wall. Castiel carefully stepped closer, slotting his arms around her body and placing her weeping face on his shoulder. "I love you," he said, soothing her in a soft voice. "Even if you're dirty and damaged and broken, I love you and I'll fix you."

His sister slowly quieted down. "But you're going to leave me," she said between faint sniffles. The red-haired angel wrapped her arms around Cas' body and held him tight. "To be with Dean"

Castiel placed a kiss on her hair, the auburn curls he always loved running soft against his fingers. "No one is leaving you," he said, reassuring her. "I'm not leaving you."

"Promise me."

Castiel quietly sighed to the wall. He wanted to be with Dean more than anything. He missed Dean's touches, missed Dean's solid bulk against him, grounding him to the ground, holding him whole. But his sister needed him. He was all she had, and he didn't see it in him to leave her, not in a time like this.

"I promise," he gave his words with a resolve.

~:~:~

Dean gradually took in the familiar surroundings. The room swirled around the prisoner as he turned his head, causing Dean to emit a groan. He tried to keep steady by pressing his palms against his temples. Slowly he started to remember what went down earlier, why he was knocked out and why he and Gabriel needed to figure out ways to acquire some mysterious drugs. Cas' life depended on him.

"Guards!" Dean sprang to his feet, grabbing the metal bars and shouting for attention. He wondered how long he had been out, what time it was and whether Cas was still alive.

"GUARDS!" Dean raised his voice after seeing no sign of anyone coming. He hoped to God it wasn't a recurrence of what had happened last night: that everyone had been ordered not to come to him.

To his relief, the alarm rang and a familiar face came walking down the hall.

"What is it, Winchester?" Garth swung the baton over his shoulder, acting smug as ever. Dean made a mental note to break that frigging baton in half for knocking him out at such a critical moment.

"Let me out," Dean hissed through gritted teeth. Garth, of all people, should know he wasn't supposed to be in his cell right now.

"And I'll fly to the moon," the scrawny guard snickered. He then grabbed Dean by the shirt through the bars and whispered into his ear, "I searched Luci's cell and found nothing. Lunch is in twenty minutes. Make the best use of your time."

He then stepped away from Dean's cell. "Don't call again unless someone dies," Garth growled, pointing the baton menacingly at Dean.

"The next person who's going to die is you!" Dean yelled back, though it was more for show. So, twenty minutes. Thankfully he was unconscious long enough he didn't have to suffer hours of being awake and useless in a cage. Apparently, Gabriel must have asked Garth to search Lucifer's now empty cell for the drug. It was one of the options they had discussed on their way back from the infirmary.

That one failed, which meant Dean would have to carry out the next option. He would have to choke it out of the junkies. Well, those who Dean knew to be ex-junkies, anyway. For once, Dean hoped the house was not as clean as Dean had thought it was. Otherwise, he would have to cross buildings to get the drug. That would be a hassle, considering each minute could be vital for Cas.

Angered with his uselessness, Dean punched the wall one more time, feeling the pain reverberate from his bruised knuckles down to his injured wrist that was still swathed, not so neatly right now, in bandages.

It all went downhill from there; when Dean mentioned the nightmare and Cas was so mad he tried to break Dean's arm, thinking Dean touched him only because he wanted to take advantage of Cas' affliction. Or it could head downhill from when Dean decided to touch him in the first place. Or maybe it zipped downhill from the start: the instant Dean first set eyes on Cas during his orientation.

He remembered that moment well: a smile so soft and eyes so bright that, if he were four years old, he would have run to his mother and told her he had found an angel. _His_ dainty, pristine angel Dean had so preciously cherished. Lucifer ripped that away from him.

And the last word Dean said to him was _'you little slut.'_

Tears slid down Dean's face. Tears from the pain so deep it cut through the pit of his soul. He didn't know why he said those sickening words. Dean didn't share well. It was a known fact. Just to _think_ Cas would want to be with anyone else pained him like no other laceration.

Little did he know that Cas would _be_ with someone else — only not willingly.

"LUCIFER!" Dean howled, the scream dripping with fury so fierce it sent the entire building rattling in fear.

~:~:~

As Dean walked down to the lunch hall, he could feel it: the shift in the air. They hung in there, dull and heavy — the smugness, the embarrassment, and pity, and dubiety, and dread — as fellow inmates avoided meeting his eyes and guards dug their heads away. The dynamics of the place was not the same as they once were. Dean would worry about it, but that was for another time.

He met up with Gabriel and two of his lackeys, who smartly finished their meals while they had a chance. They were about to corner a former addict when someone caught Dean's eyes.

"Andy!" Dean hollered from across the hall.

Andy dropped the whole of his food tray, froze for two seconds when he realized whose voice it was, and set off running for his dear life. Apparently, he did not have the luxury of securing himself in solitary.

"Stop him!" Dean ordered, not to anyone in particular. He was too far away. If he couldn't catch Andy before he reached a prison guard, Dean wouldn't be able to carry out his business.

Someone raised his arm to block Andy's attempt at fleeing, and, just like that, Andy fell on his back to the floor, seeing stars.

Dean yanked the small guy to his feet and started beating the shit out of him. Andy didn't even have the slightest chance to defend himself as fist after fist struck his face and torso. The poor guy was tossed and turned with punches and kicks as if he was a marionette, soon to be reduced into a pulp if Gabriel did not interfere.

"What the hell, Dean?" Gabriel cried as he and Danny tried to lock Dean on both sides while Roy helped the beaten pup to his feet. Andy's face was bruised and swelling and he coughed up blood. "You can't go killing everyone you come across with."

"Like hell I can't," Dean growled, trying to wrench free from Gabriel and his lackey. "If you let that scum go, I'll skin you alive," Dean barked at Roy, who tightened his hold after hearing Dean's threat.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, what has he done to you?" Gabriel cried in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," the very terrified Andy spluttered before Dean could answer Gabriel's question. "I didn't know Lucifer was going to hurt him. You have to believe me."

"What?" Gabriel, in his surprise, loosened his grip on Dean. Dean suddenly bolted towards his victim, who swiftly staggered away until his back hit the wall.

"I… I thought Lucifer only wanted to mess with you, telling you Castiel wanted to move out and everything." Andy gabbled, shaking wildly while Dean grabbed his shoulders, his thumbs threatening to press hard onto his trachea, choking him. "I swear, Dean. I like the guy. I would never want to hurt him."

"And you think messing with me was a good idea?" Dean bawled, his fingers crushing down with each syllable, making Andy gagged. Hearing no answer, Dean's voice got louder. "Why did you do it?!"

Andy pulled at Dean's arms in vain. He gasped for air like a dying fish, but it was the sharp pain that frightened him. He was now a sobbing mess, stuttering in tears when Dean finally eased his clutches, "I… I needed my fix, Dean. You know I'm a junkie, and Lucifer promised a batch if I'd just lie to you."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, pummeling the addict ferociously. "You sold Cas for a batch of drugs?"

"Dean!" Gabriel yelped, hauling Dean from the hapless guy. Dean flipped him away and lashed out at Andy again.

"Get me the drug," Dean ordered.

"What? Dean!" Andy wailed. "They're very expensive!"

Dean snorted. The fucker had the nerve to whine. "I'll give you two minutes," Dean scowled. "Get me the drug or you can kiss your ass goodbye."

~:~:~

"Is he awake yet?" Dean barged into the infirmary and suddenly dashed pass Dr. Sebastian to the private screening room where Castiel was being held. He looked through the door's wide window to see Cas sitting up on the bed, looking away from where Dean was.

He almost flew into the room if he could. Elated, Dean turned the doorknob, pushing the door hard only to be bounced back.

"What the…" he murmured to himself, repeatedly turning the doorknob in disbelief. "Doc, why is the door locked?" Dean started to shout and banged the door loudly. "Cas! You hear me? Are you alright?" Dean banged the door a few more times, shouting for the door to be opened, but Cas fixed his gaze at the far side of the room, as if he didn't hear Dean at all. "Cas!"

"Oh, for Cas' sake, Dean!" Balthazar bellowed. "Shut your cakehole or I'll get security to throw you out. You're only scaring him!"

"Then unlock the fucking door!" Dean bawled.

Gabriel looked between the snarling doctor and prisoner and decided to step in for everyone's best interest. He pried Dean away from the door. "Come on, Dean. Let's hear what Doc has to say first. See if everything's alright with Cas." With that, Dean allowed himself to be dragged and slumped into a chair in front of Dr. Sebastian's desk with a huff.

"Thank you, Gabriel." Balthazar nodded his thanks and sat down behind his desk, breathing deeply to keep himself collected. "Fortunately, Castiel regained consciousness. Initial checks showed no sign of brain or any organ damage. We can safely say he is stabilized now, though I will keep him under observation for another twenty-four hours. After that, I'll start a mandatory psychological evaluation. It is his physical injuries that I'm worried about. He seemed to be in immense pain, but I cannot give him sedatives or pain killers as I had no idea what kind of drugs he had already taken."

Dean straight away passed the drug he had gotten from Andy to the doctor.

"Is this—" The question left unsaid as Balthazar took the pill to examine it.

Dean grumbled sullenly in the affirmative.

"This will be very helpful. I'll get this to the lab." Balthazar, in all his eagerness, promptly turned to leave the room.

"Wait, doc," Dean halted him, and then jerked his head in the direction of the observation room. "Can I see him?"

"Oh, that" The doctor sank back down on his chair, exhaling softly. "Castiel specifically requested not to see you," he cautiously explained. Dean couldn't help but gape. He didn't understand for the life of him why Cas would make such a request. "Give him some time, Dean," Balthazar continued. "It is difficult for him to be near another man right now. Even I had a hard time examining him."

"But I'm not any other man!" Dean lashed.

"All the more intricate," Balthazar mumbled, followed by a whoosh of air through his lips. "I know you're worried about him, but give him room, Dean. He'll come around."

Dean was about to counter when he was interrupted by a prison guard announcing he had a visitor. Dean frowned. He had no idea who could be visiting him today.

"Go see your brother first," Gabriel put in gravely. The unusual solemnity stopped Dean from asking why or how in the world he knew who Dean's visitor was. "I'll talk to Castiel. I can see him, right, Doc?"

Balthazar nodded lightly, lacing his fingers together. "I believe so, yes." When Dean hesitated, he added, "It's all for the better, Dean."

Dean took another glance through the door's window. Cas had already lain down on the bed, his back to the door. Dean couldn't tell if he was sleeping or simply pretending to sleep. Heaving a dejected sigh, Dean reluctantly followed the officer out of the infirmary.

Once Dean went out of sight, Gabriel turned to the physician. "Doc, there's something I need to talk to you about."

~:~:~

Sam made sure the visiting room was empty, except for one of the officers he knew Dean was acquainted with, who stood guard at the door, before asking to see Dean. He chose to sit at the far end of the room to get themselves as much privacy as they could possibly have.

When Gabriel called early this morning, he had asked Sam to see him first. That was how Sam spent the hours before lunch, while Dean was knocked out unconscious in his cell for pulling a little stunt in front of Garth, listening to all the horrible accounts of what had happened the night before. Sam's brain raced a mile a minute at the bunch of new information the short inmate bestowed on him, scurrying to find a way to use this newsflash to Dean's advantage, on top of Castiel's back story Jo had given him last night. Sam wished Jo was here with him at this moment. At least he would have someone to bounce ideas with.

The door to the visiting room opened with a buzz. Sam rose to his impressive height, watching as Dean dragged his legs along what seemed like an excruciating length of the room, and his heart sank. Maybe before devising any devious scheme, he should come up with a plan to restore Dean's humanity before all else.

Dean came close to a walking corpse. No spark of life was visible on his worn-out visage. Sam didn't know if he wanted to cry, or run out and hug his brother, or simply break apart on the spot. From the look of things, Dean could be doing all three at the same time.

When Dean stood face-to-face with him, he dropped his gaze to Sam's shoes, biting his lower lip. Dean lightly bounced on the balls of his heels, saying nothing. There was absolutely no trace of his usual smugness, and Sam was afraid that one right or wrong word from him could cave in the whole of his brother's existence.

"I'm really sorry, Dean." He tried the most neutral words of consolation; though at once he wished he could them take back. It seemed even the simplest form of condolence shook the core of Dean's being, and slowly Dean lowered himself down, onto the floor, succumbing to his own weaknesses.

Sam carefully sat down facing Dean, who hid his face between his knees. He strained to hear if Dean was crying, but he couldn't hear a single sound. Sam prayed he'd hear a whimper or something. Dean had a tendency to mask his emotions, and most of the time that was not healthy at all.

He scooted closer and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean feebly trembled at the touch so Sam rubbed his hand up and down which he hoped was comforting. That was when he heard Dean sniffle.

"He refused to see me," Dean mumbled, lifting his head up. He ran a hand through his face in an attempt, Sam knew, to hide his tears. For a brief moment, Sam didn't understand what Dean was talking about.

"Cas," Dean continued, his voice heavily muffled. "He used to be so clingy, but now he locked me out of his room. He wouldn't even look at me. What am I going to do?"

There was a silent plea for help in Dean's voice, in the way his face was now helplessly wet with tears. Sam felt a lump in his throat as his heart was slashed in half. Very few things could make Dean Winchester cry and the sight shook him. But Sam quickly puffed up. He needed to be strong for his brother. Dean needed him to be strong for him.

"Give him some time, Dean," Sam said, trying to sound as solemn as possible. "He's just gone through a trauma. He needed time."

Dean shook his head. "He must hate me," he sobbed. "I brought this on him."

"It wasn't your fault!" Sam came back sharply. "Lucifer's the culprit here, Dean. You can't blame yourself for everything."

Dean shook his head again, violently this time. "You don't understand. He was raped because of _me!_ Lucifer used him to get to me. And I… I pushed him into that bastard's arms. Oh, God—"

It was obvious Dean was seething with self-loathing. Sam couldn't help pulling him into a hug, feeling himself being torn apart as Dean noiselessly sobbed on his shoulder. "We'll get them, Dean," Sam consoled his brother. "We'll get everyone who did this to Castiel. But I need you to stay focused now. We can't do it without you."

"I will end him, Sam," Dean hissed through gritted teeth, pulling away from Sam's hold. His eyes were swollen red on the lids, but his glare was black with demonic malice. "I will cut his balls off and cook it for everyone to eat. Then I'll make sure every dick in here gets shoved up his ass. The last one will be riding his corpse."

"No, no, Dean, don't do that." Sam was admittedly scared by the overheated threats. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders, steadying him. "The thing with Alastair was a mess. We can't do that again. Focus!" Sam spoke up. "We'll do it better this time, and you and Cas will walk out of here."

Dean snapped out of it. "Who says anything about leaving?" He panicked. "I'm not leaving here. Cas won't leave. I won't leave without him."

"Wait. You asked him?" Sam cried in astonishment. And here he thought he was so smart planning to get Castiel out so Dean would follow. Now, he couldn't let some unknown killer sabotage his brother's chance of escaping.

"I did, and he said he won't leave. I'm not going anywhere, Sam. I can't leave him here."

Dean visibly trembled, as if the thought itself made him nervous, frightened even. Sam wondered how close the two of them _actually_ were. "How much did you tell him?" he asked.

"I told him nothing. I asked him to leave with me. He strongly objected. That was all."

So they were close enough for Dean to jeopardize his own safety, Sam thought, without even discussing with him first. Given Cas hadn't opposed the idea, Dean would have revealed his identity. But Sam guessed that didn't matter now.

"Ask him again," Sam suggested firmly. "After all these things, he may have changed his mind."

Dean just continued shaking his head and pursed his lips. So Sam leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Gabriel told me about the drugs and the guard's order. I say we have a case. I'll ask Ellen to take it up and we investigate like we always do."

"It's frivolous," Dean cut in, again shaking his head and rocking his body back and forth. "It's not gonna work."

"Doesn't matter," Sam reaffirmed. "We've built a case on less. We'll keep digging, bring the bad guys down and you walk. I'll make sure Castiel walks with you, too."

When Dean looked up, Sam couldn't deny seeing a glint of hope in those emerald eyes, even though it quickly deflated. "What if he doesn't want to?"

For what reason would a man not want to leave prison, Sam wondered; unless they were as pig-headed as Dean, of course. Then Sam would have to make sure Castiel wants to walk. There was still this whole serial-killer Cas thing that Sam hadn't told Dean about, but he figured that was not for today. Maybe he would talk about it after his trip to California, when he knew enough to have the upper hand, enough that if Cas held Dean back from walking free, Sam would have some leverage against him.

"Then you change his mind," Sam reiterated. "Lie if you have to."

~:~:~

**A/N:** I know this will sound like a very lame excuse, but I feel the need to say it nonetheless. My schedule has been very tight these past several weeks (and will continue to be so in the foreseeable future), thus the very slow update. I do apologize and if you're still with me at this point, please know that I really appreciate it. Even though I did try to speed things (in the story) up, it still seems to me like it is getting nowhere, so please bear with me. Another thing you should note is that I did not tag this story as angst, so it won't be forever downhill. The true account of the mysterious(?) Cas' delusional(?) scene will also be revealed in the next chapter. Please stay tune.


	13. Chapter 13

**Additional chapter warnings:** Aftermath of a sexual assault, including, but not limited to, anger, depression, dissociation, guilt, shame, numbness, mood swing, nausea. There is also a recap of the event. To be honest, I had no idea what I signed up for when I thought I'd touch the subject. I have no intention of dealing with it lightly, but I also do not want to make the story more depressing than it already is. If you are a survivor, please proceed with caution.

~:~:~

Castiel had his back to the door, when he heard someone fumble with the knob and opened it. He didn't turn around, trusting it wasn't Dean, as he had asked Dr. Sebastian not to let Dean in. He had also heard when Dean threw his tantrum, as well as when an officer came fetching Dean because he had a visitor. Things had been quiet since then. So he supposed Dean was already out of the infirmary.

He did turn, however, when he heard a familiar voice greet him.

"Hey, kiddo!" Gabriel had his signature smile on his face while making a theatrical move towards the patient's bed. Castiel shifted to get up, but suddenly winced when he felt a sharp ache around his hips.

Gabriel rushed to his side. "Easy, kid," he said, gingerly helping Castiel up and getting comfortable. "You don't need to get up."

"I had more than enough sleep," Castiel replied with a grunt at the pain in his ribs as he sat leaning his back on the pillow his teacher had set up for him. If it was any other man, Castiel would tense up being in such close proximity. He knew he did when Dr. Sebastian examined him. But outside of his self-defense class, Gabriel was more like a big sister Castiel never wanted.

"How are you feeling?" the visitor asked.

"Groggy, for one," Cas replied. It was true. He felt weak and dizzy, though he was not sure if it was because he had lain down for too long or if it was because of the drug. "And pain" Definitely pain. It was there with every breath he took.

"I'm not sure if that sexy doctor out there has explained it to you?" Gabriel said, pointing one finger towards the door. "But he didn't want to risk giving you pain killers because he had no idea what kind of drug is already in your system."

Castiel nodded in the affirmative. Dr. Sebastian had generously detailed for him what was going on with his body, which ached all over. Castiel doubted any amount of pain killers would suffice, or that he was worth being given pain killers at all. Maybe _pain_ was what he deserved.

"But worry not, my friend," Gabriel continued with a confident grin that Castiel found surreal. "Your knight in shining armor has gotten hold of the drug and it is being analyzed as we speak."

Castiel blushed at the reference. Dr. Sebastian had also told him how Dean had gone to Lucifer's cell and carried him all the way to the infirmary. In other circumstances, it would be such an embarrassing scene to be carried bridal style in front of all people, though Castiel didn't think he would mind it in private.

He quickly pushed his thoughts away.

"Right now all you have to do is rest and get well soon," Gabriel concluded. If he noticed the flush that appeared on Castiel's face, he didn't mention it. "Your prince is waiting for you," he teased with a smug grin.

_Or maybe he did notice it._

Castiel gazed downward because his cheeks were burning with shame. Dean and he were in different leagues now. He had no right to daydream about any prince in shining anything.

"Do you think you can let Dean see you for a while?" Gabriel's voice went softer at Cas' reaction. "He is just as devastated as you are. I have to follow him around just to make sure Dean doesn't kill anyone." At Cas' gaping, he quickly elaborated. "It's his way of coping with things. I'll be in the room with you if you don't want to be alone with him."

"I can't," Castiel said after a long while. "What you said was right. I'm not worthy of him."

He remembered it as if it were yesterday. Castiel had been so weak he was attacked by Uriel and a few other men, causing Dean to get locked up in solitary for rescuing him. His teacher was so furious he proclaimed Castiel not worthy of his king. He never fathomed the truth of the statement until now.

"Oh, honey, dear," Gabriel cried with a sympathetic look in his honeyed eyes. "You shouldn't take half of what I said seriously. You are in every way fit to be by his side."

"But Lucifer said—"

"Fuck what Lucifer said!" his mentor retorted sharply, incensed. To be honest, Cas wanted to ignore the venomous remark Lucifer hissed into his ear if he could. It just kept replaying itself in the back of his mind like an infuriating broken record.

"_This is all on you, Castiel. Dean's empire wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't been so _weak_."_

And Castiel couldn't agree more. Even after all the fighting lessons he had been taking, all the hard work his teacher had put him through, he still failed to keep himself from being an easy target, from bringing Dean more complications.

"I'm Dean's weakness, Gabe," Castiel admitted meekly. "He has more to lose if I'm still by his side."

"Oh, Cassie," Gabriel cooed, one hand gently stroking Castiel's hair; the look of empathy glowed in his eyes again. "You don't understand _love_, do you? Dean will lose himself if he doesn't have you by his side."

Castiel could only shake his head. He did not believe Dean loved him; he believed Dean was better off without him. Cas remembered, no matter how much he wished it were a dream, that when Lucifer threatened to hurt him, Dean didn't hesitate to give up his life. Dean was willing to die — not even spared a moment to think twice — all because of him.

"Look, you're a big boy," Gabriel pressed on. "I'm not gonna lie to you that what happened last night will not shake the balance of power in the house, but we do not yet know in what ways or to what extent that effect is. I'd just like for you to be with us, fight with us, help us restore the stability."

"I can't even protect myself!" Castiel countered. He didn't know how it happened, but he felt a teardrop trail down his cheek. "You must be out of your mind to think I could be of any help to you." _Or Dean,_ but Castiel could not slip that name past his lips now. He felt his throat parch just at the thought of saying it out loud.

Gabriel shook his head wearily. "I know who I teach. You are a natural. You can easily take the Devil out in a fair fight. I guess he was well aware of that fact, too. That must be why he put you under the influence."

But Cas couldn't buy it. Looking down at his wrists, he still saw the white gauze that covered up his blood-seeping, ugly blackish patches that said he couldn't set himself free. The stiffness in his shoulders and the twinges in his stomach screamed _weakness_ that echoed across a deep, dark, despicable void.

"Look at these bruises." The older inmate gently grabbed Cas' palm and lifted it, emphasizing how limp it was. "They're not evidence of your weaknesses. They're proofs of your strength. You have fought well and I'm proud of you."

Castiel kept his head down, but now he saw big drops of water splashing onto his scrub top and they didn't seem to stop. He had fought all he could. Lord knew he had. Cas watched with morbid fascination as the water soaked the fabric into a wider, darker circle. He didn't look up until he slowly registered that someone was calling his name.

"Cassie, Cassie." Even though his vision was blurry, his teacher's face was so close to him. Castiel didn't understand why he had moved so close. "Don't cry. Can I hug you?"

Cas shook his head. He couldn't see the other man's face anymore. "I was a fool," he sighed. Chuck had warned him from the beginning. Dean had tried to keep him away from the one man he mistook for a friend. Gabriel had been equipping him with fistfight techniques, but he had been so full of himself he never heeded those warnings — so stupidly, recklessly naïve.

'_Oh, damn it,'_ Gabriel muttered to himself before pulling the crying mess into his arms. Cas didn't freak out so he guessed it should be okay. He let the poor man sob onto his shoulder, fighting back tears of his own. It was impossible not to break seeing such a delicate little thing falling apart. "None of this is your fault, kiddo," he kept calming him over and over until Castiel pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, wiping the tears off his face. "I don't know what has gotten into me."

Gabriel shook his head lightly. "Let it all out, kid. You need to get it out of your system. Though I kinda think Dean is more of an expert in the counseling area."

"What do you mean?" Castiel snapped. His voice was stiff and his glare was deadly. Gabriel bit his brainless tongue on the inside. The kid must have thought he meant Cas had been repeatedly assaulted.

"I mean I kinda gave Dean a book," he confessed with a guilty look on his face, "That says how to deal with this kind of situation?"

Castiel groaned as he threw his head backwards. Of course, he remembered the book. He found it one day when he was bored to death and decided to grope around their tiny cell. The one misunderstanding that led to a fight and other things that followed.

Gabe shifted on his feet. He had no idea what to do and wondered if Castiel knew about the book, or that it somehow was the source of the downfall. He watched as Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, his neck arching back over the pillow as if he was having a terrible migraine.

"You know I don't remember much of what happened." Gabriel startled when Cas suddenly whipped his head back up and spoke. "I remember waking up in Lucifer's cell, naked and vulnerable. I cried for Dean to help, but he couldn't come to me. So I fought. I beat him. I beat Lucifer, but then I felt woozy. Next thing I knew I was bent across the bed, Lucifer's weight on me," he paused, taking a deep breath as he suddenly felt suffocated. "And Dean… Dean was howling in so much pain it felt as if my ears were bleeding." Castiel cringed at the memory.

"And then I dreamed. I dreamed of me and Dean making love in my old apartment—"

"Oh, Castiel," Gabriel cut in. His golden eyes were misty and he held Cas' hand tight. "You weren't dreaming at all. We all heard it."

Castiel was lost. He couldn't understand why his mentor should be the one brimming with tears. "What do you mean you all heard it?"

"You know we heard everything, all of us in the building?" It was more of an assertion than a question as Gabriel tried to control his voice. "I heard Dean scream for help. I heard you fight with Lucifer and what happen after that. Lucifer wasn't quiet at all. He made sure everyone knew what was going on in his cell. Dean's threats weren't getting any less deafening either. Then you stopped making noises." At this point, Gabriel paused to stifle a sniff.

"Lucifer was livid to see you determined not to let any sound come out of you," he continued. "Then suddenly all of Dean's ear-splitting threats came to a stop, too. For a short while, I heard nothing but Lucifer's snarls."

Gabriel paused for a long while, telling himself this would be the last time he remembered all those gruesome details. He knew sexual assault was rife in this setting, but doing it in front of the entire population was purely a mind game. Castiel was sickeningly used to mess with Dean's head and at the same time instill fear in everyone else's. And who knew what the endgame was?

He also had to admit that Cas' determination not to fall victim to Lucifer's scheme was both heroic and heart-wrenching. Not letting out a sound had crumbled the Devil's grand mischievous plan. It took nothing short of divine courage to be able to pull through like Castiel did. Gabriel doubted he would possess the same kind of fortitude had he been under the same situation.

"Then Dean started talking to you," Gabriel started again, only this time his voice was audibly shaking. "He didn't yell like he did earlier, but he spoke in a soft, private voice. I felt as if we were listening in on a very intimate conversation." Gabriel blushed as he recounted the story. "Dean guided you back to your room, saying it was the place you're most comfortable in. Then he started talking sweet nonsense to you, telling you it would soon be over, and how much he loved you."

Castiel had a quick moment to catch the surge of sickness and a sick bag before retching into it. He had stocked up a couple of them since he threw up the first moment lunch touched the inside of his mouth. Gabriel rushed to get him a Kleenex and a cup of water. It was mostly liquid and bile since he did not eat anything all day.

He leaned heavily back on his pillow, exhausted. It was too much to handle and his body must have had its way to protest. All this while, he thought his mind had created the dream as a defense mechanism for him to cope with the trauma. What he thought was not real had turned up otherwise. It was so sweet and warm and comforting and Castiel remembered all of it. How Dean held him while he was breaking. How Dean whispered his confession of love with a face wet with tears. How he told Dean back he loved hi—

"Did I respond?" Cas asked hastily. He needed to know if Dean heard him said he loved Dean too.

Gabriel shook his head, much to Cas' chagrin. "I only heard you whimpered. But Dean seemed to understand. It felt as if Dean could communicate with you through all your little mewling and keening. It broke even the toughest heart in the facility, Cassie. Even Shakespeare couldn't write a love story this tragic."

Castiel leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. So Dean didn't hear him say it. Maybe it was all for the better. This way, it should be easier for Dean to leave him—

Castiel choked for breath as his nostrils were blocked. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks; he had no idea since when. His brain went numb but his heart was doing all the talking — no, all the _feeling_ — for him. He knew deep down, he never wanted Dean to leave. Instead, he wanted Dean to love him, even when he was flawed and unworthy of it. His heart was screaming, longing to hear Dean say those magical words again. He knew if he could only hear them, _believe_ them, all his afflictions would slide away.

"Castiel, please, you need to let Dean help you." Castiel just noticed Gabriel was speaking when the other inmate gently wiped his tears with another facial tissue. "Can't you see he needs you as much as you need him?"

"But I'm not—"

"Hush now," Gabriel chided lovingly. "I'll be damned before I hear you belittle yourself one more time."

Cas' jaw clicked shut. If he couldn't berate himself, then he had nothing else to say.

"Just do it for me, please?" Gabriel resolved to his last resort. "If it doesn't work out, you let me know, and we'll find another way, okay?"

~:~:~

Cas dreaded it, the moment Dean would open the door and step in. Even though he had agreed to meet Dean, he wasn't so sure how he would take it. What if he was so intrinsically scared of Dean he couldn't even be in the same room with him? What if Dean walks in and is disgusted with what he sees; swiftly turning on his heels and never returns?

But, as it happened, it wasn't half bad — or it was worse; Castiel wasn't certain which one was more accurate. His heart was pounding a mile a minute while Dean walked in self-consciously, and Cas searched through all those erratic rhythms but he couldn't find fear or nervousness or excitement in them. It was as if his physique had its own responses to Dean that even he himself had no access to.

If they were competing on a pageant contest, Castiel was confident Dean could easily beat him in the Shittiest-looking Beauty category, despite what Cas had been through. Earlier, when Dean was yelling outside of his room, the unrestrained voice shook him but also gave him a sense of strange calm, and so Castiel had assumed all was well. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Dean was very conscious of the gaze Cas kept on him as he walked around the foot of the bed to take a seat on the chair next to it. Tilting his head, Cas fixed Dean with a piercing stare as his face gradually moved nearer. Dean gulped nervously, feeling exposed under close scrutiny.

"You've been crying?" Cas asked with a subtle furrow on his forehead. His voice was soft with that little whiny tone that Dean was crazy about. Dean had to clutch the bed railing tight to keep himself from reaching up and pulling the guy into a kiss. Dr. Balthazar had strictly forbidden him from making any kind of physical contact.

"That obvious, huh?" Dean covered his sadness with a smug but failed attempt of a grin, casting his eyes down in embarrassment. He so did not breakdown in front of his little brother just because some adorable angel had refused to let him in the room. The fact that he _was_ in the room now only served to heighten the shame that he had been so worked up about it.

"Why did you cry?"

Cas' whimper was sad and confused. Dean snapped his head up to see. Cas looked as if he had fallen into a trance, his hand mere inches away from cupping Dean's cheek. Dean bit the inside of his mouth and sucked in a breath.

"I saw you cry," Cas said, pulling himself away and leaning back on the headboard. His voice had returned to normal. For a swift moment, Dean scrabbled his brain to find how it was possible that Cas was in the room with him and Sam, thus seeing him cry. "In my dream, you cried and you told me you loved me."

Dean gaped as his heart sped up in his chest. The beating was so loud in his ears it blocked out all other noises. So Cas heard him, everything Dean said to calm him down during his dire catastrophe. Cas did not only hear it; he saw it, _felt_ it.

"Was I dreaming, Dean?"

Because he needed to know; Castiel needed to know that he wasn't dreaming; that it was real, that Dean still loved him when he was awake.

"Are you dreaming now?" Dean asked. His voice was so strained Castiel was afraid he might have asked a wrong question. So he looked for a truthful answer. He focused on the pain in his body, pinpointing it down to the exact spots, but then even pain was evident in his dream. So he took a look around. The room was stuffy with no windows. There were strange equipment and drawers and a white ceiling, and the sense of emptiness pertaining to a patient's room. When he shifted his gaze back down, he was met with a corporeal Dean. He looked real enough so Castiel moved closer, and tentatively placed a hand on Dean's chest.

"No," Castiel replied with resolution as he felt Dean's heart beat against his palm.

"Good," Dean said. Somehow he found something Castiel did amusing and a smile broke across Dean's face. Castiel could only frown at the seemingly sudden change in Dean's mood. "Now listen to me carefully." Dean tapped a finger under his chin and Castiel let Dean tip his head up so their gazes met. Dean's eyes were glittering and Castiel wondered if he ever registered how many shades of green they were.

"I love you, you silly little dork."

Dean stressed each word firmly and Castiel remembered them. He remembered they were the same words Dean said in his dream — no, in his _not-dream_. Suddenly, Dean's face became blurry, as well as all of his surroundings, and Castiel was frightened that all of this had been a dream, after all.

"Holy shit, don't cry!" Dean yelped, hurriedly drawing back to get a Kleenex. Being instructed not to touch him, Dean had no idea what to do. There were _streams_ of tears pouring down both sides of Cas' face. In the end, he just brushed the towel lightly over it, letting the tissue do all the soaking up. Unfortunately, the watery hell of tears welled over as soon as they were dried.

"Fuck, Cas, why do you cry so much?" And maybe Dean started to overly panic. He had a soft spot for tears and even though he knew what kind of a baffling response a trauma could bring, combined that with Cas and he was a lost cause. Dean was freaking out, big time.

After a pile of tissues was tossed on the floor and Cas had quieted down to some extent, Dean mumbled an apology. He meant it to the core of his heart. Cas was an emotional rollercoaster all because of him; a thousand atonements could not even begin to make up for it. With a rueful sigh, Dean reached out a hand to pat the top of Cas' head.

Castiel winced away at once. "Don't touch me!" he growled, furiously drying his face while Dean stiffened where he was.

"I'm dirty," Cas muttered, pulling his knees in and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He was dirty. Dean had made it very clear that he hated _whores_. Cas had been with too many men he was as far from unsullied as the bottom of an abyss was from the tip of the sky. He did not deserve Dean. He did not deserve Dean's love, whether in dreams or in reality.

"Look at me, Cas!" Dean grabbed at his shoulders and spoke up. Castiel squirmed at the sternness in Dean's voice. He wanted to crawl away but Dean's grip was unyielding against his shaking form, flooding him with a curious sense of security. In next to no time, Castiel found his heart imploring, _'Don't leave me. Don't ever let me go.'_

"I don't care if you're dirty, or damaged, or broken. I love you and I'll fix you."

For a long moment, Castiel just stared into Dean's eyes, lost in their affectionate warmth as he let those words slowly sink in to the depth of his soul. They were the exact words he once said to his sister and he wondered how Dean knew what to say, how Dean knew those were the words _he_ desperately needed to hear.

After a while, Castiel wondered if he was still in a dream and none of this was real at all, that when he woke up, all of this buzz would go away. But when Dean started to shift awkwardly, a hand crept up to rub the back of his neck in all his nervousness with dashes of red on his cheeks, Castiel knew he wasn't dreaming.

He agreed to believe Dean's words from now. No matter how fabricated it sounded, Cas meant every word when he said it to his sister. Even if Dean said it with half of the sincerity he did, it was still truer than a twinkling star above the dark horizon. Castiel knew he could let himself be loved this time — him and all his brokenness.

When Cas reached out a hand, Dean promptly took it — a simple gesture that told Dean his message was reciprocated. Castiel watched, enthralled, as Dean brought his hand up to place a gentle kiss that lasted a few seconds too long on his knuckles. Dean had a wide grin on his face, and freckles that Castiel never knew could shimmer under artificial light.

Dean toyed with Cas' hand as if he wasn't ready to let it go. That was when Cas noticed the wrist swathed in bandages and the nasty wound across Dean's knuckles. His skin was broken, swollen and covered in dry blood.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Castiel asked softly, remembering how Gabriel said he had to stay plastered to Dean to keep him from hitting everything in his line of sight.

Dean kept his mouth shut. He didn't hurt himself. He hurt the wall, and maybe a few other people who may or may not deserve it.

"Did it hurt?" Cas asked in that mewling voice of his again, and Dean had to cover his hand to veil over the bruises. It did hurt, but definitely not as much as he wanted it to. He wanted to feel Cas' pain, share it, take it over if he could. But it didn't matter how many objects he hit, it never hurt enough.

Dean avoided the question with a teasing grin. "Kiss it better?"

Cas just glowered back at him. "You should have it dressed," he said pointedly.

Dean's grin slowly turned into a cunning smile. "Maybe you could help me with that?" He didn't wait for an answer when he let go of Cas' hand in favor of fetching a small first-aid kit. Dean knew where things were kept in this place as he was one who frequented it, both as a patient and as a visitor.

He settled the kit on the bed. When Cas hesitated, he begged playfully, "Please? The nurse is not half as pretty as you are."

Dean grinned, seeing Cas had a rosy tinge on his cheeks. "I'm not pretty," Cas grumbled but he grabbed the kit and started cleaning up Dean's wounds. Dean couldn't stop the happy smile on his face until Cas applied antiseptic cream on the cut a little too roughly on purpose. Dean's face crumpled in discomfort.

Cas feigned innocence, saying, "You seem hurt, Dean. Are you sure nothing is broken?"

Dean huffed in reply but he kept his hand where it was, allowing Cas to cradle his injured wrist even after he had finished with the knuckle wounds. It seemed so normal, when Cas and he attended to each other and bantered easily like this, as if nothing bad had happened — or could ever happen at all, for that matter. Dean knew such an illusion would be short-lived, and so he cherished every moment under Cas' tender caresses.

But Castiel remembered it. As he supported Dean's bandaged wrist with his hands, he remembered he was the one who caused the infliction. Cas traced his fingers along the soft cloth from one end to the other, as if such a delicate touch would make amends. He bent down to kiss the back of Dean's hand, mindful of the injuries.

"Cas," Dean breathed. He enfolded Cas' hand in both of his, feeling its weight and concreteness. "Could you…" Dean paused. He was weighing the words as he was not sure if he should say it, but Dean was slowly losing his mind. It was only so long before he tripped over the edge. "Could we get out of this place, please?" As if adding _please_ would make any difference.

As expected, Cas harshly pulled his hand away. Already Dean missed the warmth of it. "Dean, we've talked about this," Cas reprimanded.

"Yes, we did." Dean heaved a heavy sigh. He ran a hand over his hair. "But after all these things, don't you think you want to change your mind?"

Cas pursed his lips in headstrong defiance. If he could, Dean would suck and lick at those willful lips until they went quivering under his touch. Then he would lavish Cas' body with kisses until the stubborn mule went pliant in his arms. But, as luck would have it, Cas was neither a mule, nor was he changing his mind.

"How many times, Cas?" Dean asked in frustration as he felt heat rising on his face. "How many times do I… do _we_ have to go through this? How many times do I have to be cautious when I touch you, slowly building your trust only to have someone else crush it?"

Dean was beside himself with temper, but Cas just kept staring at a faint stain on the bed sheet as if it was right to give more attention to it than to Dean. "Answer me! How many times do I have to see you hurt while I can do nothing about it?"

Cas did not reply. He just kept staring at that stupid stain and Dean somehow had his hopes up thinking maybe Cas was contemplating changing his mind. That was, until Cas mumbled an "I'm sorry," which meant Cas was not leaving.

Dean turned to kick a metal drawer behind him, causing Castiel to jump at the loud clang. "What—" _What was so important that you were willing to hold on to at the expense of our relationship?_ Dean wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question down. Of course, everything was more important than _them._ Cas did not love him, but it never mattered. Whether Cas loved him back or not, it wasn't like Dean could deny how he felt about Cas, or even attempt to cover it up now that it was out in the open. But at least he hoped Cas would understand.

Castiel bit his lower lip. If he bit it any harder, the skin would tear. He had made a promise — a very important promise to a very important person. He couldn't just give up and leave. Dean had a brother he dearly loved; surely Dean would understand.

"You know what? Screw you!"

Castiel watched as Dean growled, knocked down an innocent chair and stormed away. There was no way Dean would understand.

~:~:~

When the door opened with a creak, Castiel jerked his head up; hoping to see Dean come back after he had cooled down. But, to his dismay, he was met with the small frame of his psychic friend instead.

"Chuck," he greeted.

"Hey, I brought you this," Chuck said as he walked in, holding up a juice box. "I heard you couldn't eat. Figure this might help."

Castiel took it and expressed his gratitude; he knew how costly it was in this place. He had to save it for later, though. It wouldn't do to throw up in front of other people again.

"I can't be long so I'm going to make it quick, okay?" Chuck said, gesturing to an officer standing outside who must have escorted him here. Cas only nodded in reply. "I have a confession to make." Chuck held his breath for a minute longer before blurting, "I'm not a psychic."

Castiel had no idea if he should chuckle or frown at the blunt declaration. He didn't understand what it had to do with anything or why it was so important Chuck had to come tell him now.

"I usually let people think whatever they want," Chuck continued, oblivious to Cas' puzzlement. "Most people think I can read minds or see things, but actually I'm just very observant. I'm very good at reading people."

"Okay…" Cas trailed off. So his inmate friend did not have a supernatural power. Cas felt he should be relieved at the fact, but Chuck was still restless.

"But I do have visions sometimes."

Castiel could only gawk.

"Before you came here," Chuck went on when he got no reply from the other end of the conversation. "I had a vision. There was this soul, very pure, and then I saw a bright light coming from the east. The light warmed up this soul." Chuck illustrated using both of his hands. "But later, this very light leveled this very place"

Chuck had a somewhat crestfallen expression on his face. Castiel was still confused about the whole thing, he wasn't sure what light or what place was _this very place_.

"At first, I thought the soul was Dean's and you were the light. That's the reason we kept you practicing defensive techniques; so that nothing bad would happen to you, nor will the destruction."

Castiel forced down a lump in his throat. This was downright creepy. Whatever it was happening to him was _destined_ to happen in the first place?

Chuck shook his head. "That doesn't matter now. What's done is done." Then he looked up at Castiel with a gravity Cas never saw in the other inmate before. "You have to stop Dean."

"What?" Castiel croaked out.

"I might have been wrong all along," Chuck said, more to himself. "The soul might have been yours and the light was actually Dean's. Makes sense since Dean was from Kansas and you from California. Dean is your east."

Cas' frown had gone from deep to deeper.

"Dean is going to tear this place down," Chuck added in urgent undertones. "You heard his menacing growls. It scared everyone shitless." He shuddered. The thought alone was giving him goose bumps. The last one he heard just before lunch had him made up his mind to spill everything. "Please, Castiel. Only you can stop him."

But Cas was still dumbstruck. First, he did not understand what mess this was all about nor did he believe Dean could do such a thing and, second, he couldn't see why Dean would listen to him.

"You see that officer who brought me here?" Chuck pointed his thumb towards the door. Castiel regarded a burly man who couldn't be much older than himself. "That's officer Hewitt. His boy is nine and his little girl is four. She has curly orange locks and the prettiest smile you'll ever see." The resemblance immediately brought Cas' mind back to his little sister. "He will be the first to go down should a riot break. Do you want his children to be fatherless?"

Castiel licked his lips as he gulped. He had seen it, at least in movies. Inmates were not hesitant to batter an officer the first chance they got, dead or alive. Reluctantly, he said, "I'm not even sure if Dean will talk to me again."

"Dean will come to," Chuck affirmed with certainty. "Please, Castiel. If you can't stop him, I don't know who can."

~:~:~

Dr. Sebastian was getting ready to head back home. After such long hours, he craved nothing more than a warm bath and a sweet-scented glass of red wine, though he thought he might have to upgrade it to a glass of bourbon considering the events of today. It crushed him every time he had to deal with a sexual assault case. Of course, none of it was more devastating than the case of Castiel Milton.

The door to his office clicked open. Balthazar let out a long sigh when he saw who it was.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm working in a penitentiary or a private hospital, seeing you can come and go as you please." Well, that was only half true, but the physician was tired and he felt like making a couple of snappy remarks.

"Doc, please." Balthazar was surprised to see Dean did not come making a scene as usual, but soft-spoken and civil. "You need to let me stay with him."

If he weren't so exhausted, he might actually consider the request, but he was in desperate need of rest and not getting one irritated him. "Why? Because you asked me nicely?"

"No…" Dean trailed off and squirmed, but he still wouldn't give away. "Just… please?"

"Dean," Balthazar groaned. "I really need to get back home." He softened when he saw the dejected look on Dean's face. "Castiel will be safe here. The room is secure and the whole ward is under video surveillance. There are nurses on duty twenty-four seven."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Dean wouldn't back down and Balthazar's interest piqued to know what could possibly make the stony Dean fidget. Dean held back a few moments more before he finally gave in. "Cas has this… recurring nightmare. He needs me to calm him down."

That reminded Balthazar of this morning, when he had observed Castiel toss and turn on his bed, crying out a woman's name. At that time, the doctor thought it was nothing more than an effect of the drug.

"Please, Doc, he's just been through hell. Won't you spare him more horror, when it can be prevented?"

The doctor had to admit, he would not want to be in Dean's shoes. Practically the reason why today's case had been the most heinous he had the misfortune to witness. He fully understood why Dean wanted to be with Castiel tonight, but he found it a little out of line. Nor did he believe that Dean was a requisite factor regarding Castiel's bad dreams.

"I'm sorry," he politely declined.

Before Balthazar knew it, Dean had already dashed to a cabinet, retrieved something from the top drawer and injected himself with it. A few seconds later, Dean fell to the floor, convulsing.

"Dean!"

~:~:~

**A/N:** I'm not gonna lie. This chapter was _very_ difficult to write, considering the state Castiel was in. I hope I did it justice. Anyway, I feel like addressing each and every one of you who left a review for the previous chapter, so here it is: darkphoenix2345, MonsterV, aLoggedInReader, SmokingJazz, Pyro42x, AssbuttInTheImpala, ViosShadow, Riceball-1989, Angelpheonixwings14 and hunterxangel. Thank you for your kind words. You all are a gem. I do not deserve you, whether in dreams or in reality.


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